{"id":47347,"date":"2013-03-01T16:00:20","date_gmt":"2013-03-01T21:00:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=47347"},"modified":"2013-02-28T11:32:52","modified_gmt":"2013-02-28T16:32:52","slug":"g-mend-ooyo-ulaanbaatar-mongolia","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/03\/01\/g-mend-ooyo-ulaanbaatar-mongolia\/","title":{"rendered":"G. Mend-Ooyo, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows.<\/em><br \/> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/G.Mend-Ooyo.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/G.Mend-Ooyo.jpg\" alt=\"G.Mend-Ooyo\" width=\"600\" height=\"580\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-47348\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>When I was young, every morning I would take our hobbled horse and walk it in the dawn light. My father would say, \u201cSleep late like a horse. Rise early like a bird.\u201d As I walked with the horse, I was very happy to have the little birds fly just above the light of dawn as they sang.<\/p>\n<p>The rhythm of each morning of my life still moves to the beat of my lovely childhood. From the window of my home in the center of Ulaanbaatar, I grasp the pale light in the east. Just as I used to bring in the horses pastured on the wild steppe, I spend time recollecting in my mind many thoughts that have taken flight. The images of life, transected by the window, are a chiaroscuro.<\/p>\n<p>I can clearly see the great seat of learning that is the National University of Mongolia. Sometimes it seems to be an image hanging on walls. A few steps from the window is my writing desk, made from Mongolian pine wood. When I sit at the desk, the world shifts into a different space. The history books grow thicker. There is no time to watch what goes on beyond my window. &mdash;G. Mend-Ooyo<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows. When I was young, every morning I would take our hobbled horse and walk it in the dawn light. My father would say, \u201cSleep late like a horse. Rise early like a bird.\u201d As I walked with the horse, I was very [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":272,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5554],"tags":[10159,452,10161,10160,20544],"class_list":["post-47347","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-windows-on-the-world","tag-g-mend-ooyo","tag-matteo-pericoli","tag-mongolia","tag-ulaanbaatar","tag-windows-on-the-world"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>G. Mend-Ooyo, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia by Matteo Pericoli<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"March 1, 2013 \u2013 A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows. 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