By Luchang Zhu Morning in Houston or Hong Kong,or somewhere in my dream.I found a narrow alleywhere I could smellhalf of Southeast Asia.A diner called “Ding How,”a name stranded in 1945.The table was sticky.The menu was sticky.A bowl of Vietnamese beef pho.A cup of Malaysian white coffee.The steam and fragrance riselike incense smokesearching for heaven.In … Continue reading Breakfast
