Adjacent to the Theatre District and bordering Downtown Crossing, the Massachusetts Turnpike, and the South End was Chinatown. The Washington Street traffic was a cacophony of blaring horns, the friction …
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after Jennifer S. Cheng Dear Mom, ………I want to describe for you the snow. How white smooths the mountains into cones. How, in the evening light, the cones become islands, …
The man at the memorial hall had a kind smile. He swiveled in his chair behind the front desk as she came in, and looked at her over his reading …
Mr. Shimizu places a hand on my chest. Twenty-two seconds. I count. I take it all in. The burning circle of his palm. The cool ridge of his wedding band. …
The brass bell rang a welcome as I opened the door and the strong Arabica coffee aroma swept over me. A Horace Silver jazz piano solo was picking up its …
i smooth river leads to quiet winter dust on my fingers frozen, with stars in water, lantern fish in the wind. I’ve longed for herons in my sleep, jade …
Hollay Ghadery recently interviewed authors Wayne Ng and George Ng. Wayne was born into a Chinese immigrant family in Toronto, while George was born in China. Both authors share Chinese …
On my sixth birthday, Ma and I sat across from each other in the kitchen, waiting for Ba. Late again. Ma drummed her fingers with fury on our wobbly folding …
It was a sunny, September morning, and I was making my usual journey to work from Vancouver into Richmond. The perilous Knight Street bridge was bustling as usual, and the …
“Dinner together?” the older version of me proposes, her red lips open and close, saying it clear and sound. “Our birthday, my treat.” She takes out the lipstick and adds …