The radio is all static -- like the sound of the crunching metal of a car; the faint, blurry voice on the airwaves her own, trapped inside a wreck, calling for help. In English or Spanish? she wonders. That poet she met at Lucinda's party the night before argued that no matter how much of it one lost, in the midst of some profound emotion, one would revert to one's mother. What language, he asked, looking pointedly into her eyes, did she love in?
--How the Garcia Girls Lost their Accents