"I never had any questions except one about the moment when I could die.  I should have chosen the moment before the arrival of my children, for since then I've lost the option of dying.  The sharp smell of their sun-baked hair, the smell of sweat on their backs when they wake from a nightmare, the dusty smell of their hands when they leave a classroom, meant that I have to live, to be dazzled by the shadow of their eyelashes, moved by a snowflake, bowled over by a tear on their cheek.  My children have given me the exclusive power to blow on a wound to make the pain disappear, to understand words unpronounced, to possess the universal truth."

-Kim Thuy

I wonder, everyday, what being a mum will feel like.

Rollin, face against parlour glass. (reading the letters)