Dirt-Caked Memories: A Story Revisited and Retold
Standing inside my mother’s former home for the first time, I notice the uncovered skylight. The floor beneath it is moist with rain that has fallen through. Scratched pots and pans lay cluttered on the stove. The furniture is dusty and sticky with age. Only the barest traces of my mother’s stories remain, buried among the charcoal ash in the wood-burning stove and veiled within Chairman Mao’s...
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