My name is Annabel, not Anna. “So, just how many foster homes were you in before the coming to live here?” “You don’t want to hear about all of that, Michelle. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. “No, no, no.
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