The blood road is a nickname for the ho chi minh trail , a vital supply line for the viet kong
during the vietnam war.
Along the blood road there are thousands of ponds. Carved out by American bombs. A futile attempt to blast communism into the next millennium. It'll take a hundred years to remove unexploded ordinances. Children mistake them for shiny toys. Every day is black Christmas for children who play along the blood road. The metal from war doesn't go to waste. The skin of bombs is made into skiffs. That putter around the delta mist. Some taking in round-eyed tourists... Who're eager to see how a poor communist lives. More often than not they'll be invited into a hut provided a humble, heartfelt meal. Sometimes by a widowed one-armed matriarch. Today, the blood road is being devoured by jungle. Natives still slave over rice paddies. Just like they have for a thousand years. And will for a thousand years more. Some of the bomb ponds hold trapped fish where villagers toss hopeful nets... and who said war is good for nothing?
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