I'd like to think of my self as not melancholic at all, I think I'm a pretty cheerful person, really.

They never discussed it, but both came to understand it as a promise: he would always make sure there was a place for her. She would always be able to say, Someone is coming. I am not alone.

I would never tell myself, you have to write 20 pages today or something. But I do try to show up. Read what I wrote, fix things.

What made something precious? Losing it and finding it.

Being asked, "Where are you REALLY from?" It makes one feel OTHERED.

The people are maybe still as aware of the differences but they are more accepting of it that what we saw in the 70s and 80s, but the undercurrent is still there. There are maybe no racial slurs anymore, no firecrackers in mailboxes, the distinction is much more subtle.

After a while, the fear became a habit, too.