There were the red roofs of Hounslow, first, then everything diagonal, then clouds and clouds and clouds. Half a day later, a day later, something, I don’t know, we landed in Singapore, and immediately the windows misted up in the humidity.

At the airport, my father said: “Hello, daughter. You’ve put on weight.” Then: “Do you have a job yet?”

“Thank you,” I said, “this is a nice welcome.”

“Why aren’t you staying for New Year’s?” my grandmother said.

If the Chinese family doesn’t make you laugh, it will kill you.