First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung

I realize brothers are all the same. Their whole purpose for being is to pick on you and provoke you. 

They're not nice people. Look at their shoes. They wear sandals made from car tires...it shows that these people are destroyers of things. 

Entering the woods at night is a haunting experience, especially for someone with a vivid imagination. 

I do not care why or how the Angkor plans to restore Cambodia. All I know is the constant pain of hunger in my stomach. 

The chief told us the Angkor would take care of us and would provide us with everything we need. I guess the Angkor doesn't understand that we need to eat. 

It is the best thing in the world to have someone love you. 

I hope she won't be reincarnated here. 

We are starving to death. Many people are dying in the village. Yet the government trades our crops to buy guns to kill more people. 

His government has created a vengeful, bloodthirsty people. Pol Pot has turned me into someone who wants to kill.

Underneath the plastic sheet covered in fish, I enter Vietnam. 

No News At Throat Lake by Lawrence Donegan

It would be easier for everyone if today's opponents came dressed up in the all too familar clothes of the conqueror.

There are four types of clients; those who know who you are but don't know why they need you; those who don't know who you are but know why they need you; those who know who you are and know why they need you; those who don't know who you are and don't know why they need you.

Seventy-five percent of Irelands road signs have been stolen and now adorn the walls of Irish themed pubs in California.

For a while life was seamless conversation with gray haired men in black suits and clerical collars telling dull stories about how they spent their lives doing starving Africans a favor by introducing them to the word of the Lord. As if that would fill their bellies.

Can't stand around here all day admiring the view. There's work to do.

A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Bean

This is a memoir about a Sierra Leone boy who, at the age of 13, joined the army to fight against the RUF. Unfortunately, the army turned out to be as crazy and horrific as the RUF squads. He was removed by Unicef and rehabilitated. He made it to the US by representing his country in the Children UN. He was adopted by an American woman he met through that organization. An amazing chronicle of the inhuman events he lived. Similar to the genocidal accounts told in "Last King Of Scotland" and "Hotel Rwanda." I still find it inconceivable that the world lets this happen.

Tales of a Female Nomad by Rita Golden Gelman

I am free to live by the standards and ideals and rules I create for myself. 

When things are working, its usually best not to break the rhythm with too many questions. 

Do people who are spending more money have more brakes on their ability to have fun?

Whenever I go, I carry a plastic bottle of bubbles. 

I have learned to compress time through introducing early in conversation intimate details of my life. Then the usual superficialities of initial conversation have been bypassed. 

How I have managed to have so many interesting people experiences? Because I trust. 

I use the word friend to refer to people I connect with. That is what I seek. 

Be sure to take itch cream, plastic bags, and arrange auto bill pay.