Amid the rhythm of machines in the ICU, you ride the relentless tide of a stroke, each breath straining to fill your fading lungs—all for one thought: the uncertain future of those left behind.
twilight...
the fading flicker
of a spark
(in memoriam, my late mother Ling Boey King, 1936-2025)
—David Ngo
Read by Oana Maria Cercel: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGyGZEgvO-A/?igsh=cnphZ3E2eGVuM2lx
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