I have been reading the two volume set of Reporting Vietnam since March 19 of this year. That’s 8 months. Today I will finish the set.

I am sad.

I already have Reporting World War II waiting in the wings, another two volume set. And I am very excited about that one, given how profoundly this one affected me. But that excitement does not override the sadness.

It feels weird to be sad about finishing a book. I think this is because there are obviously so many others. Maybe it is sad because it’s not the book that is concluded, but the conversation. Yeah. I like that.

What is better, after all, than a good conversation?