I worked in Vietnam for a month a little over eight years ago, opening the Hard Rock Cafe there. I loved it. The people were AMAZING. It's an incredibly young country (meaning the average age of the people), and Ho Chi Minh City, at least, doesn't feel "Communist."
(I also ate a LOT of pho. It's still one of my preferred breakfast foods now.)
Entering my thirties made me reflect on all the phases, experiences, and changes that eventually made me who I am. Upon reading old journals, I was compelled to capture some of my stories into comic form. I figure that perhaps some of my experiences can be relatable, and it makes me quite queasy to be so candid. It's strangely therapeutic, but also terrifying. Maybe I just share too much.