It was

nothing short of bizarre, but with equal parts
whimsy and genius. They're a kind of diorama,
a moving show, folding and unfolding little 
grey-haired aunties into scenarios—they fly 
in and out of kitchens crowded with soy sauce 
bottles, chopstick holders, plates of steaming 
omurice and jelly salad. They dive into luggage 
with more hidden creases than the laugh lines 
on the sides of their eyes. Next thing you know, 
the suitcase opens up again. One of them has 
a motorcycle helmet on. The other climbs up
a gallery wall to join other aunties installed as
an audacious kind of Mount Rushmore above
the welting. I am telling you this is a thing.