The Native American grandfather telling his grandson about the two wolves is lucky that he only has two—everyone has their own set and I have at least seven. Like the dwarves, each has its own distinct personality. I am yet to decide if they want to devour me or protect me. I think it’s a mix.

Our wolves follow us wherever we go and, right now, mine are lying under the kumquat trees outside enjoying the Hoi An sun. The ones capable of enjoyment, at least.

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