For the Traveler’s Story collection, we ask fiction and non-fiction writers to percentage certainly one of their maximum indelible shuttle recollections.

MY MOTHER and I had been in combination once more, in our village of Serowe within the Central District of Botswana; in my mom’s space, which were constructed within the mid-90s, when I used to be nonetheless a number one schoolgirl and my mom a number one schoolteacher. I remembered the method of creating the home—the mounds of crimson pit and river sand, the developers whose pores and skin shone darkly beneath the solar, the blueprints that fluttered importantly within the fingers of the boys—of my uncle, my brother and the executive builder.

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