More things fall from the sky now.

He had once asked his mother to describe his father’s face, a question whose weight he did not recognise until he had been older.

I was angry then. No. I wanted to be just like her.

I went on a jog this morning in a never-ending Chinatown.

After everyone has passed it around, Tharani wraps it in a tissue and tucks it into her polar-fleece pocket.

Trying is a fitting operative verb here.

A handful of us scream in recognition like sea flares on a dance floor.

Did she even graduate? Kevin will ask me later, when it’s just us, slumped on our flight back home.

The way she speaks will make you certain that she is the only one still alive.

We’d video-game or anime-binge or dream aloud about a future as bright as our childhoods.

I think about your hands when I look at mine

但巡迴遊樂園並不害怕，只要再次拆卸自毀，它們換個地方就可以重新活過來。
| As long as the traveling carnival committed self-destruction, it could come alive once more in a different place.

And yet you’re still here.

Chow reminded Cheng that a lot of writers drink but drinking does not turn him into a writer.

You dreamed of what could be, unaware of what was.

“I’m a truck driver. Long-distance. I just came back from California yesterday.”

You convinced me of the queer soul of the world.

She let go.

A flash folio edited by Yi Wei

“A Beautiful Relationship” and “The Price of Freedom”