“In my family, there was a woman who knew how to fly. She had been pushed by a man, or perhaps the man’s wife, or perhaps the wife’s children, small fingers keen on seeing her fall. Her own daughter had been asleep when she stepped onto the balcony which might have a ledge which might have been a rooftop. Her daughter might have been a son who might have been my half uncle, which would make the woman not related to me at all.”