I entered a dim, deserted foyer—afternoon classes were in session. I almost buckled under the sensory assault—the musty scent of yak-butter candles, the thick mantle of dread—and I reached for one wall to steady myself. I’d spent half my life here, and I still felt lost and alone, and anything bu...
I am stretched out, prone. I have been here before. I lift my head to look around. A man steps out of the corner shadows. It can’t be. But it is. My father lifts his right hand with the palm facing me. With his left hand, he points to the ground. The first gesture is meant to dispel fear, the oth...