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Mother Tongue

by Kendra Ellis

“Four!” I exclaim. I’m sitting with my mom at the dining room table, August sun shining through the windows. She just asked how many languages I speak now. “英文、法文、廣東話同國語,” (English, …

Models of Migration

by Allan Cho

Sugar ants from sunset bring bad luck reflected in aged mirrors; troubles echoed in hoarse bells inside whitewashed temple domes; debts that inhabit the marrow of history; hunger that live …

A Pile of Bones

by Sophie Munk

I  Grandpa is dead. He will soon turn into a pile of bones.    I can’t remember when, but my father once said that after a person dies, everything disappears, …

Comeback

by Sophie Munk

Andrew and I agreed to meet at the GS25 near arrivals. He smiled when he saw me and asked if I needed help wheeling my single piece of luggage: a …

Don’t Leave Us Here

by Allan Cho

As living parents, more time is all we want, while in death, time is all we have. We spoke to Cynthia a week before the accident took us. She called …

Meryenda

by Allan Cho

      1. (n.) the ancestral home you’ve never seen before In the public square, there is a stage lined with Christmas lights. Tinny music blasts from a loudspeaker, …

To Make a Painting

by Allan Cho

The artist reads a book. The book provides an idea. The idea, entrapment, leads to a framework, a framework of thinking. Are we trapped in our own bodies, which we …