
How to get up from the floor
a year after losing my mom
Letters and essays about language, culture, and identity — by a Russian-born Jewish linguist and mother living in the most complicated place on earth
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a year after losing my mom

into Soviet winter

A suspiciously well-rested stranger talks mojitos on the phone

A father's speech, a word that means something else, and my son's World Cup logic

Harry Potter, firearms, and the missile season

I had a minute. Uncharacteristically.

What a fart joke in Oji-Cree taught me about belonging

I think I broke my brain (again)

on the strange calm of knowing exactly what to worry about

Because that’s what’s important in the world right now.