TORCH

TORCH: My American Playground

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I left the car by the roadside and ran up the slope, in tears now, reaching the picnic tables and swings and, as bright and vivid as in my dreams, my purple-shaped climbing frame, exactly as I remembered it. ...more

TORCH: Blood Trauma

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But still: A pattern. The trauma had been diluted by time. But, it was still present, still discernible, in my blood. ...more

TORCH: Lessons From My Grandma on Language and Silence

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The sounds I made were pleasant to my ears, but that’s all they were to me. I was too young to understand what culture and heritage meant, too young to understand the reasons behind memorizing ancient poems. ...more

TORCH: Growing Season

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I ask Hussein if he’s proud of the work he’s doing. He says that he is. We stop talking. For a moment, the market feels like peace. ...more