When I picture an earthquake, I picture an earthquake. And, I picture my mother’s back and my father’s tumor and planes crashing into towers. When I picture an earthquake, I picture orphans in Armenia and child soldiers. I picture myself, safe, behind guarded walls. I picture an absence. I hear thunder and silence. An earthquake is trauma and vulnerability: The earth’s, mine, yours.

From Aftershocks: A Memoir

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Selected Essays & Stories