I wonder if the reason why I am more inclined to melancholia than any of them is because I am an immigrant plant and, like all immigrants, I carry with me the shadow of another land?

form of comfort for her, a token of reassurance, when nothing else felt solid.

A map is a two-dimensional representation with arbitrary symbols and incised lines that decide who is to be our enemy and who is to be our friend, who deserves our love and who deserves our hatred and who, our sheer indifference. Cartography is another name for stories told by winners. For stories told by those who have lost, there isn’t one.

because that is what nature did to death, it transformed abrupt endings into a thousand new beginnings.

mother prone to superstition.

Arriving there is what you are destined for, But do not hurry the journey at all …

The cycle of belonging and exile.

recognizing him any more? Instead, she said a single word. ‘Plants.’

People assume it’s a matter of personality, the difference between optimists and pessimists. But I believe it all comes down to an inability to forget. The greater your powers of retention, the slimmer your chances at optimism.