Madre. Nanay. Mother.
Layla Solatan
2018-01-02
My seven-year-old, meatless arms surge a fifteen-inch wooden spoon through a sea of nut and milk as it slowly transforms into a stubborn pillow of sucrose. I’ve thrown crumbs of pili nut along with three cans of condensed milk and sugar into an unforgiving wok. In just a few hours, these simple elements will all...
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