Mónica Ramón Ríos

“I hadn’t read the obituaries in decades. When you live in an adopted country, when you’re an exile in your own body, names are simply lists that dull the reality of death. At the age of eleven, when I was still living in Chile and hadn’t yet fully lost my eyesight, I’d read every word. I’d squint at the page, hoping to absorb those lives before they slipped away from me. Maybe catching a glimpse of their crimes, loves, triumphs, and downfalls would help me shake the fragility I felt, the darkness clouding my vision. Later, living in the shadows, I’d learn that obituaries are where lives muffle to a murmur.”
― Mónica Ramón Ríos, Cars on Fire