I have a photograph of you up on the wall on the right side of my bed. You look tormented, what a good acting you’ve done, but still so handsome. Like a beggar, a random someone said, but that’s how I love it. In real life you look seven times more ordinary. And shy, running away constantly from the camera, afraid to give too much of your beautiful soul peeking out of your softly spoken broken English.
But then when I wake up in the morning and look at my face on the mirror I think, hey, I shouldn’t be speaking English. This is such a Chinese face. You are much more authentic in that. May your life be normal, like what any random person’s life is supposed to be.