You know us. We are your cousin Alice, who tells the story of Nanna's funeral; how all the cars followed Uncle George in the wrong direction, while a priest stood by the grave, waiting to conduct the burial. We are your dad, who you visit on warm summer nights, and he talks about the old days; when he met mum; when he worked in the cane fields. We are the migrant family next door, who laugh till they cry, telling of how, when they arrived in the fifties, they went to the milk bar for a gelati. The owner kept saying "Gilleti" and offering them razor blades. We are the Vietnamese mother who...
You know us. We are your cousin Alice, who tells the story of Nanna's funeral; how all the cars followed Uncle George in the wrong direction, while a ...
