One day, Nisha vanished and turned to gold. She turned to gold in the eyes of a creature that stood before me. She turned to the gold in the morning sky and in the music of the birds. Later, in the shimmering melody of the maid from Vietnam who sang at Theo's restaurant. Later still, in the faces and voices of all the maid that flowed along the streets like a turbulent river of anger, demanding to be seen and heard. This is where Nisha exists. But let's go back. We need to go back.
(the name of the chapter is the POV it is in)
YOU ARE READING
Songbirds
General FictionShe walks unseen through our world Cares for our children, cleans our homes. Her voice unheard. Will you listen to her story? Nisha crossed oceans to give her child a future. By day she cares for Petra's daughter; at night she mothers her own littl...
