Hunger also changes the world - when eating can't be a habit, then neither can seeing.

In a time of destruction, create something.

Reading Ngo Tu Lap's poems, terrible nostalgia wells up in me- nostalgia for a lost time and a far-gone country, nostalgia for people I've loved, and for creatures of forests and rivers. I feel gratitude too. War is over. Peace arrives with these beautiful poems.

There's something in life that's a curtain, and I keep trying to raise it.

Joy and life exist nowhere but the present.

Before we can leave our parents, they stuff our heads like the suitcases which they jam-pack with homemade underwear.

When alone I am not aware of my race or my sex, both in need of social contexts for definition.