to puso make til I could see te parts. But her asked me why I looked so scared.

    I o of my moture aken ion Station. Sayed til termine , or tizen. My fat izen. Some in a sea of immigration categories.

    My motalked about  my faterrible life tragedy s speak about. My fation papers: Betty St. Clair, crossing out  doead of 1914. So,  ead of a tiger.

    In ture you can see eal tc vents at top sernized suit jacket, ayliss padded stons. t from my fatfit so someplace.  do in  he black horizon of her head.

    And even t, aring up past the camera, wide open.

    quot;; I asked my father.

    And my fat ruggling to keep il t off, ten seconds later.

    My moten looked ting for someto er s truggle to keep her eyes open.

    quot;Dont look at ; said my motoing on t a building. S time,  slept for many years. And  and ips ted.

    quot; did so ; I her.

    quot;S a bad man,quot; said my mot;S .quot;

    And I kne  true. I kneo o onese or Englistle bit of Englised my motures, looks and silences, and sometimes a combination of Englisuated by ations and Cration: quot;S;—ords cannot come out. So my fat words in h.

    quot;I trying to say sired,quot; her became moody.

    quot;I t darn family in try!quot;  meal.

    But  possibly imagine. I could understand tly, but not t led to anot connection.

    quot;You must not ion but to sc; o walk by myself.

    quot;; I asked.

    quot;You cant understand t; she said.

    quot;?quot;