The best way to move forward is in a pedicab. In Saigon, the driver ushers you from behind like a concerned mother. Hovering above the back of your tousled head, he steers you firmly into oncoming traffic as you admire the scenery.

In Can Tho, the driver perches, paradoxically, in front of you. With unblinking eyes, you watch in anticipation as your aging father lowers his head into the vexatious yet exhilarating void.

In the Philippines, the driver rides alongside you like a brother, a utopian arrangement which yet manages to displease those who would rather traffic in silence.

But as a booming and colorful airplane appears suddenly above your head, you find yourself, once more, tilting your tear-stained face skyward while thinking, Perhaps someday I could be among those frozen in the clouds, tossing a candy wrapper into the heavens.