Rosy’s baby is chestnut-colored and bow-legged. She wears spots like scars. There’s a splotch in the center of her forehead like, in another life, she was shot dead. There’s one on the soft part of her neck like, maybe once upon a time, something took a bite of her. There are some at the bottom of her skinny legs like, perhaps, she crawled out of the Earth while something tried to pull her back in. Rosy’s baby can’t moo, so her mama has become acquainted with the sound of her baby’s hooves on …

“Food” on a yellow balloon “Accommodation” on a pink balloon “Freedom” on a blue balloon “Language” on a green balloon “Education” on an orange balloon Set them free, please tell the world the needs we are asking for now will be paid back after we grow up. We came here through overloaded boats, which almost turned over during storms. We were told it was our temporary stay, we will be brought to another place of peace and safety, where we “might” unite with our parents. We are …

1 Every day we carry a creeping calamity on our shoulders. Every day the burden becomes harder to bear, more difficult to ignore, but we are well-versed in pretending. We choose not to look at the poisoned, swelling oceans, at the gathering clouds above, because these are problems for others. When decline falls across our sunlit path, we squint and stumble, curse our tired feet and broken footing, lay blame everywhere else. Surely the wretched animals did this to us somehow—ungrateful! And …