Grace

“I’m coming,’ Henry called. He soon appeared from behind the Dodge, walking a bicycle. The frame was painted red and the wheels, which didn’t quite match in size, had been scrubbed and oiled. The handlebar grips, made out of strips of leather from an old car seat, had been crafted by Henry himself. The basket on the handlebars barely resembled the wicker cray pot it had originally been; an item that had somehow travelled far from the sea to the junkyard. Henry brought the bicycle to a halt in front of Sissy.”
― Tony Birch, The White Girl

“Without citizenship, Odette could not open an independent bank account. As a consequence, she cashed the money orders and kept her savings in old jam tins stored at the back of the pantry.”
― Tony Birch, The White Girl

“You’re right. I don’t need them in front of me, Sis. But, as each tree is different, so is each branch and leaf and flower. What I’m painting this afternoon can’t be painted again. They’re all different. Once this flower dies there won’t be another quite the same.”
― Tony Birch, The White Girl

“What I need from you,’ the woman added, ‘is your tribal name.’ Odette was puzzled. ‘My tribal name?’ ‘Yes. The tribe of your ancestors, where your people originated from. Whenever I sell native artwork I provide written provenance with the greeting cards, naming the tribe that the artist originates from. It adds to the value of the work, you see?’ She looked at the frowning Odette, sympathetically. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Perhaps you have lost all contact with …’ The woman blushed with embarrassment.”
― Tony Birch, The White Girl