I’ve been reading whatever I can lately on the way mothers carry their babies in different times and cultures all over the world. Tonight the Google search turned up a short story from Macao.
Macao is a strange place, not quite Portuguese, and not quite Cantonese, independent, but colonized. It was just across the pond from us when we lived in Hong Kong, and you could feel it close around you in the little fishing towns along the coast. This story captured the cultural/generational tension so beautifully that I had to share:
What an interesting story! It would be interesting to hear the back story on that one.