“Ye Shanghai….Ye Shanghai…..” The piano riffs squealed to an abrupt stop. But the melody outlived the musician. L14. Still. Rounding her mouth in the gasp that was— Hers. Like the unseen singer’s The portraits rounded their mouths with her. Godfather Lim scratched an itch— That lasted. The brass plaques began to tarnish. Their polished surfaces— … Continue reading The Itch of Remembrance