The Lights Of Bombay
Editor Underground
by Patricia D'Sliva
In the first memory I have of my grandfather, I am six years old. I am sitting on a couch with gold-patterned cushions that mould around me, enveloping me in scratchy fabric. It is my first trip to India from our home in Bahrain so the cluttered unfamiliarity of my grandparents’ apartment terrifies me. I press myself further into the couch’s overstuffed warmth.
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