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“Drift,” she mouths softly in English, “what is drift?” My mother translates into her language, not one of mine. I try to make myself remember by writing 婆 over and over on squares of paper covering the walls so I am surrounded by the women and the water radicals they hold close. The tips of waves touch me in my sleep.” — Nina Mingya Powles
Drift,” she mouths softly in English, “what is drift?” My mother translates into her language, not one of mine. I try to make myself remember by writing 婆 over and over on squares of paper covering the walls so I am surrounded by the women and the water radicals they hold close. The tips of waves touch me in my sleep.