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By Kalliope Lee Chapter 19 he kunai grass is high and dense, taller than I am. I unsheathe my machete and begin to whack away at the thick growth, flinging spates of rain from the blades. Slowly, I make my way through the narrow parting, careful of the knife-like leaves that can slice clean through the flesh, leaving deep cuts for the sweat to seep into. The stinging can drive you crazy. Earlier that morning the rain came down more heavily than usual and for hours I fought through the perpetual waterfall. The rain caught on the rim of my cap, pouring in a torrent down my face. I could hardly see three feet ahead of me. Every few paces I slipped in the mud, struggled to get up, slipped and struggled up. Then I didn't have the strength to get up anymore and slumped to the side of the path. Just for a minute, I signaled to Sato who had tried to prod me on. "I'll be along soon," I said and then closed my eyes to the soldiers passing by in a sluggish march. Within seconds I'd fallen asleep. I don't know how long I've been
Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture – University of Hawai'I Press
Published: Apr 22, 2014
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