In winter, my sister died. I was not sad or in pain. At that time, I was looking forward to her death.
Another winter, I dragged my suitcase and ran away. The tears I shed for the first time in 13 years finally fell.
Turns out the hardest part of escaping a home is digging yourself out of your bones.
It turns out that my sister has always been my sister
Concept: Reflects the impact of contemporary native families on children, the complex mother-daughter relationship, the emotions between women, and how children can save themselves
