THESE CHILDREN PLAYING ON THE HILL. One girl, one boy, one running down and away, back to safety. The hill made of dirt, dug up and piled high. There is a deep hole next to the hill. No one plays in the hole. This is the City of Ulaan Bataar, a park in eight months time. Seven luxury patio homes in a ring around one corner. The girl throws clods of dirt at the third, fleeing child, and the boy looks at her. They are a king and queen. They are far from home. In the sun and the dust and the idle afternoon and the ripple of the future. In someone's luxurious backyard. The third child races slowly out of sight across the steppes.


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