12. Far Away She stood on the ground of her ancestors. Undefined. Or maybe: too defined to still mean anything. Her eyes — like my mother’s. But lighter. Less heavy. Like forgiveness without words. And as she spoke, I felt the colour of my own eyes begin to change. Gently. Like water catching sky. What she said? I don’t even remember the language. But I remember the sound. It was birdsong. It was truth. It was everything I never learned to name.