“Inorganic Daughters” by Tessa Yang
Radish was born of the earth, plucked from the soil by the tufts of her leafy hair . . .
Read MoreRadish was born of the earth, plucked from the soil by the tufts of her leafy hair . . .
Read MoreIn the typical way we search for lost persons these days, via Google, I try to find Robert Hashima. There seems to be. . .
Read MoreKarl finally arrives home. With him in the car is his mother, she sits in the passenger seat as he rolls down the driveway . . .
Read MoreAn inverted, roughly triangular reflection projected into the darkness a few feet outside the bus window . . .
Read MoreI cannot pick up a child, grate a hunk of hard cheese, fold towels, play volleyball, be on the beach, in the sun, in the rain, in the snow . . .
Read MoreI was in bed reading Leopardi on vastness, a subject that since a little after one a.m. had overwhelmed me, like a cascade overwhelms a leaf . . .
Read MoreManny was bleeding and would probably be dead in an hour or two. Still, I couldn’t get Ana off me . . .
Read MoreShe needs not to hear the name, the mother whose child has died on the ferryboat . . .
Read MoreI knew the dog was blind because while combing the shop I nearly tripped over the scrawny, scruffy Pomeranian—which didn’t pompom the way those dogs are supposed to . . .
Read MoreJust before the Avenue of Eternal Peace stand the snow white headquarters of the China Women’s Organization . . .
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