I smell the seawater. The smell reminds me of a home. That home, of a woman who is in the process of forgetting that she is my mother. I pick up pieces of a bygone puzzle and set out to rebuild some our shared history, but memory founders. I ask myself what memories are made of. We begin to paddle as we immerse ourselves in a moment where we can feel contained and where our mother-daughter bond shifts as we move along.
—Lucía Paz