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Reading on April 14th. 2026

“... Song comes to visit me and the city one day before she leaves this country. She will fly far away from here. Far away until a second splits into a day and a night. We are walking the bike pathway. Between text and image, is the imagination. To what extent, a writer is the agent of all walks of lives, even if they don’t necessarily take that role. They still write, keep writing. As if, as if no one would judge them because all the writing is fictional. I say, the moment you start writing, you then cannot deny you are making stories, you are a novelist, you are the novelist of all the truth. We walk. Song eats a strawberry ice-cream. It starts as a good flavor until it becomes nasty, stirring her stomach. She throws it away while talking about how a person pays taxes in this country as a foreigner. ...”