[post] War doesn’t come with explosions here—it comes with silence. When...

War doesn’t come with explosions here—it comes with silence. When the fishermen don’t return, when the radios go quiet near the Paracel Islands, when the coast guard boats turn back alone. I see it in my mother’s face when she watches the weather report and knows it’s not about storms. War is my son asking why his history book doesn’t mention the South, and me not knowing whether to correct him or protect him. It’s the Chinese mall going up three blocks from my stall, paid for with loans we can’t refuse. The war isn’t coming. It never left. It just learned to wear a suit and call itself trade.