切ない (Setsunai): When You Need a Word to Hold Both Sorrow and Joy
‘Setsunai’ implies something once bright, now faded. It is the painful twinge at the edge of a memory, the joy in the knowledge that everything is temporary.
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In adolescence, weekend lunches meant fending for ourselves. On certain Saturdays, my sister and I ate wafu spaghetti together.
The trick to a good nostalgic curry rice is to finish it with honey. Just a drizzle at first.
The affectations of white anime enthusiasts made me feel fake, confusing my yearning for the language and familiarity I craved.
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Hafu carries insinuations of otherness; of not belonging, but being fetishized. How do I carry this name and this history at once?
Maybe, I thought, I could play Pokémon with my peers and bridge the gap between me and my an all-white classroom. But we lose things in translation.