Poem and self-translation by Nguyễn-Hoàng Quyên
In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.
Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped
Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks
She, like the others, could only slightly feel the edge of some thoughts, and some memories. It was better that way, they all agreed.
Astrological insights from our inaugural twelve flash stories
Everybody thinks you become someone different when you’re someplace different, but it’s not true, you come back and you turn the same again.
The white Liang mansion was melting viscously into the white mist, leaving only the greenish gleam of the lamplight shining through square after square of the green windowpanes, like ice cubes in peppermint schnapps.
These days I’ve grown tired of my heart, how much feeling it has required, and would much prefer to laugh.
In the shelter of our happiness, his shell shone brighter and brighter until one day, it split open and crumbled into dust to reveal a baby, golden skinned and blinking up at me.
Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.
Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now
“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”
It is 10:40 a.m., I stare up at the ceiling, a collection of imprints. I am trying to count how many animals I can see sheeted above my head in all four corners.
Hot outside, cold inside. Hopeful on the outside, forlorn on the inside. Or was it the other way around?
One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.
They thought me the oddity, though they were the ones depriving themselves of air. I watched them with the same curiosity that they watched me. How? And why?
People talk about the dead sometimes having unfinished business with the living, but my case was the opposite.
Since the new government promised land reform, the have-nots in your father’s village buckled over with joy, while the landed were bewildered
In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.
Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.
Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped
Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now
Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks
“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”
She, like the others, could only slightly feel the edge of some thoughts, and some memories. It was better that way, they all agreed.
It is 10:40 a.m., I stare up at the ceiling, a collection of imprints. I am trying to count how many animals I can see sheeted above my head in all four corners.
Astrological insights from our inaugural twelve flash stories
Hot outside, cold inside. Hopeful on the outside, forlorn on the inside. Or was it the other way around?
Everybody thinks you become someone different when you’re someplace different, but it’s not true, you come back and you turn the same again.
One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.
The white Liang mansion was melting viscously into the white mist, leaving only the greenish gleam of the lamplight shining through square after square of the green windowpanes, like ice cubes in peppermint schnapps.
They thought me the oddity, though they were the ones depriving themselves of air. I watched them with the same curiosity that they watched me. How? And why?
These days I’ve grown tired of my heart, how much feeling it has required, and would much prefer to laugh.
People talk about the dead sometimes having unfinished business with the living, but my case was the opposite.
In the shelter of our happiness, his shell shone brighter and brighter until one day, it split open and crumbled into dust to reveal a baby, golden skinned and blinking up at me.
Since the new government promised land reform, the have-nots in your father’s village buckled over with joy, while the landed were bewildered