Phoenix Eyes and Other Stories

I reflect on this anomaly. Color and smell can deceive me, can make my senses palpitate after things foreign and imaginary. Which is worse, I can not decide, warm color or cool odor.

I no longer desired to follow the hidden tributaries and submerged streams of my parents’ lives. What Mr. Hao told me might have been entirely true, or false. Another story lay behind the one I had heard. Even if I could have charted each day of their lives, it would add up to no more than a heap of river stones, a dry bed of facts.

I'm the caretaker for all of us who wear no hats.

lan doi or lazy kid.