seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Belgium
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from United States
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Little messengers of the destruction would periodically arrive in our garden--birds feathering their nests with crisped book pages, squirrels carrying cupboard knobs and buttons to bury in our flower beds, or an occasional bone whose provenance we did not want to guess.
The Hungry Ghosts by Shyam Selvadurai
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Il cuore mi batteva talmente forte che avevo l’impressione coprisse i nostri respiri.
Shyam Selvadurai
Funny Boy (Shyam Selvadurai)
...I thought of her love comics and how fervently I had believed in them; believed that if two people loved each other everything was possible. Now, I knew that this was not so. (p. 97)
*
I try to remind myself that the house is destroyed, that we will never live in it again, but my heart refuses to understand this. ... [Uncle and Aunty] stared at the house for a long time. Then Chithra Aunty began to cry. Amma went to her and tried to comfort her. There was something ironic about that. Amma comforting Chithra Aunty. Yet I understood it. Chithra Aunty was free to cry. We couldn't, for if we started we would never stop. (p. 291)
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I find it impossible to imagine that the world will ever be normal again. (p. 301)
