Sunday Poem, October 7, 2012
Essay on Crying at Night
I am just like my mother. I buy books and tell myself that I am buying
wisdom and at the end of my life, I own a house full of books. When I
was little, I thought that the water came out of the showerhead
because it was crying. This is because I heard my mother crying and
thought it was the showerhead.
—Ken Chen, Juvenilia (2010)