Bus Comes, Citadel, Bus Station

The bus coming in, or, in Vietnamese, in-coming, wasn’t a Greyhound.

It was a Continental.

Not a Lincoln Continental.

A Lincoln Continental is a fancy sedan, not a bus.

What is a sedan?

A sedan is a privately enclosed — or– private, enclosed–human powered carriage for one person, named after the town named Sedan, in France.

What is a bus?

“A bus is an electronic pathway that transfers data between components such as the CPU, memory, and peripherals. It acts as a shared digital highway, allowing different parts of the computer to communicate by sending and receiving signals, similar to how a real-world bus transports people between destinations.”

How many people in either Nebraska or NYC know the Vietnamese spoke French? Fluently, too.

How many people know Ho Chi Minh spent time in NYC? Very much the way our Adair’s father spent time in NYC?

There is a little Italy in NYC, but not a little France. Nor a little Vietnam. There is a Chinatown, and it is not at all unlikely Vietnamese cluster in Chinatown, though Vietnam differentiated itself into existence by positively asserting it was not China.

There is a China White in NYC, near Needle Park.

In abandoned factories or warehouses, in NYC, there are artists’ lofts.

In those artists’ lofts where there are painters, there is China White.

To hell with shades of gray– what about shades of white?

There really are shades of white, and they are known, well known, to gay males.

In clean, well lit bus stations, Greyhound or otherwise, are to be found clean, well lit restrooms.

Restroom– a euphemism, or a courageous expression of a deep truth?

We do rest in a restroom.

We sit on a chair, a porcelain chair, of China White. As we relax and rest, we “let go”. And, if we are talking “number two”, we get expressive, tangible results.

I forgot to tell you a sedan is a chair. But perhaps the Vietnamese would call it a rickshaw.

Rick Shaw?

He’s Irish.

Is there an Irish town in NYC?