I guess it all depends on whom you ask and when you ask. Race, I've learned, is in the eye of the beholder.

Foisting an identity on people rather than allowing them the freedom and space to create their own is shady.

When we illuminate the road back to our ancestors, they have a way of reaching out, of manifesting themselves...sometimes even physically.

We travel with the same clan over and over again, from one life to the next, until some ultimate purpose is fulfilled and we no longer need to return.

The past is buried deep within the ground in Rabat, although the ancient walls in the old city are still standing, painted in electrifying variations of royal blue that make the winding roads look like streamlets or shallow ocean water

This thing I am feeling, I’m almost certain, is the closest I’ll ever come to standing somewhere in between truth and reconciliation.

This is what I know about my parents. They spent the next several years trying to forget each other, and me.