Mercy

“My phone is vibrating, telling me: You have a new memory. Here is a stream of pictures collected into an album, all taken somewhere far away. Home is not a place but a string of colours threaded together and knotted at one end.”
― Nina Mingya Powles, Magnolia, 木蘭

“I want to know the names of the trees in all other languages too so that I find out what they taste like to other people. But my mouth can only hold so much.”
― Nina Mingya Powles, Magnolia, 木蘭

“How I will miss the horses.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“Drift,” she mouths softly in English, “what is drift?” My mother translates into her language, not one of mine. I try to make myself remember by writing 婆 over and over on squares of paper covering the walls so I am surrounded by the women and the water radicals they hold close. The tips of waves touch me in my sleep.”
― Nina Mingya Powles, Magnolia, 木蘭