For the hyphenated

We can only handle so much truth at any given moment,

It strikes me that I cannot claim this country’s serene coves and sun-soaked beaches without also claiming its poverty, its problems, its history. To say that any aspect of it is part of me is to say that all of it is part of me.

I was so close to feeling like I had Jun’s story nailed down. But no. That’s not how stories work, is it? They are shifting things that re-form with each new telling, transform with each new teller. Less a solid, and more a liquid taking the shape of its container.

It was like he used all his compassion on strangers and ran out by the time he came home.

It’s a sad thing when you map the borders of a friendship and find it’s a narrower country than expected.

“Maybe you haven’t developed a passion yet because you’ve spent your entire life doing what others wanted you to do.”

These are our sins and how did we ever get here without them

Surely the air your lungs first breathe matters. The language your ears first hear. The foods your nose first smells and your tongue first tastes. The soil you first crawl upon.