Frances Kai-Hwa Wang | Drunken Boat
Here's what else they wrote about it:
In “Poignant Truth, Precarious You (and preparing for the Sriracha Apocalypse)” Frances Kai-Hwa Wang speaks in moments of tea. Teapots, tea cups, perfectly made Chai imperfectly remembered, and blue-pot part shattered across a kitchen floor. And she asks, “Or, did I imagine all that?” Not because—it is obvious—she doubts the edge of the shards on the floor, or the hands that made that perfect Chai, but all the subjective atoms between those facts. The magnetic fields and the bacteria and the gravity between them. The fictions we impose and depend upon to leap from nonfictional moment to nonfictional moment and maintain the semblance of a nonfictional self. She states, “I’m not sure,” because that’s what great nonfiction demands. Doubt.
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