"Nine years after my mother died, I saw her in Berlin. She was Turkish this time, religious too from the look of it so there was a headscarf. Her skin was slightly darker but it was her, no doubt.The same shocking blue eyes, almond at the edges, and the same huge belly she’d had in the final, dandelion-puff phase of her life: round and fragile, apt to blow away. Luckily, I knew a bit of Turkish from two trips to Istanbul."
https://www.massreview.org/sites/default/files/13_58.1Zellnik.pdf