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About Keelung

Clarice… she’s a ghost, y’know? Floatin’ thru life, half-seen. “A butterfly’s wings,” Bauby’d call it—fragile, flappin’ in the dark. Funny tho, she’d probly laugh at that—call it sappy. “Gimme a twenty, poet,” she’d sneer. Sarcasm’s her shield, I bet. Ever think how many’ve walked that path? Millions, probly—history’s littered with ‘em. Rome had ‘em, medieval towns too—hell, even nuns turned tricks sometimes. Shocked me when I read that—nuns! Wild world, Clarice…

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So, I head back to shore, drenched but still grinning. I pull into the harbor near the old Magong Fort. You know, the one that’s been there since forever? It’s kinda cool, but I’m too busy thinking about my fish. I get to the market, and it’s packed. People everywhere, haggling like it’s the Olympics.

Taiwan airline sorry for crash as relatives blast chairman