Food is not just what we put in our mouths to fill up; it is culture and identity. Reason plays some role in our decisions about food, but it's rarely driving the car.

As for the bracelet Mom wore to the funeral, what I did was I converted Dad’s last voice message into Morse code, and I used sky-blue beads for silence, maroon beads for breaks between letters, violet beads for breaks between words, and long and short pieces of string between the beads for long and short beeps, which are actually called blips, I think, or something. Dad would have known.

But I still couldn't figure out what it all meant. The more I found out, the less I understood.

What if I never stop inventing?

Grandfather informs me that is not possible.

To feel alone is to be alone.

She saw through the shell of me into the center of me