My daughter hasn't visited her mama's birthplace yet. I'll keep drawing it for her until she does.
As I was watching her eat, I suddenly realized that my baby was no longer a baby. She now speaks, in fact, repeats new words and phrases over and over again, loudly and with attitude. Last month she learned “laisse moi tranquille.” She doesn’t sing it like Serge Gainsbourg: “laissez moi.. laisszez moi, tranquille, laissez moi”. Instead, using… Continue reading Lilia in Lille
I shut my eyes so I don't see living skeletons, of momentarily dead bodies. I convince myself that it’s not cowardice, but responsibility; my toddler deserves a mentally healthy mom. I allow myself to hide, and I persuade myself to live, even as infants inhale their last breath of oxygen and rubble.