Abstract
Cockroaches A proposal by someone to my mom after the Vietnam War: Why don’t you sell your baby, you don’t have anything to eat? A response by my four-year-old brother: No, don’t sell my sister! There are lots of cockroaches for us to eat! When I returned to the country eighteen years later, I saw them – large, brown shiny tanks on the wall, evidence of my brother’s love for me.
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