Her passport was a liar. It insisted, with all the ponderous authority of official ink, that Irina M.'s middle initial was for Maria. But in the pleated town by the crumpled sea, where she resided with her glorious and frequent confusions, everyone knew it stood for Mmmm. It was the sound of her soul, a hummingbird's burr, a language of its own. A rising inflection for bewilderment (Mmmm?), a falling one for resignation (...