My father came over when he was 13, and my mother came over when she was 20, when he went back to the village to marry her. This is about me. This is my history. You know, I've read Shakespeare, I would read e.e. Cummings, I would look at all kinds of books, but I never read anything that directly related and touched my own life.
Vineyards head toward the sea.
Beside the plow a small fire smoulders. We shaped the old man's clothes into a scarecrow against the ravens. Our days are making their way toward a little bread and great sunshine. Under the poplars a straw hat beams. The rooster on the fence.