Rowena’s day used to start very early, long before the sky could conceive first light. She would see her husband off as he set out to sea, staying by the shoreline until the flickering lamp in his little bangka was … more »
My father was a handsome, rugged man; tough, fairly tall (five–foot-ten in his youth) and quiet. He was a lumberjack before WWII. In 1920, he was abandoned in Vancouver at the age of fourteen by his father. Since the inheritance … more »
Grandma’s old house on Drummond Drive held much more than family. Like all homes, it held moments of joy and of belonging. Like all homes, it held whispers, strained decisions and the ghosts of consequence.
It was the winter I … more »
“Good combination,” Bibik Swee Neo said to herself while fastening her navy blue kebaya sulam with her favourite kerongsang rantai given to her by her late parents as a wedding gift in 1960. Her kerongsang rantai consists of three-linked brooches … more »
Oh, it has its triumphs,
But look at its countless defeats,
And repeat attempts!
— Wislawa Szymborska, “On Death, Without Exaggeration”
The room was dank because the plywood walls were not thick enough to keep Tatay’s house warm. … more »
on the train i see my grandfather | as a young man
10,247 km of water | seven seats away
looking through his reflection | at darkened mountains and doubled stars
ye ye | but that’s not his name
should … more »