I told him the truth. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts.
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