Four Treasures of the Sky

Names exist before the people they belong to, the oldest part of us. My name has existed long before I was born and so, I think, I have lived for a long time.

I ask myself again, Will I be the one holding the brush or will I be the one who is written?

I want to
be someone I can be proud of. Not someone ruled by fate, but someone who can be certain that her life is a result of the choices she has made. This is the kind of person I want to be: the perfect line.

My life was written for me from the moment the name was given to me. Or it was not. That is the true beauty. That is the intent. We can practice all we want, telling and retelling the same story, but the story that comes out of your mouth, from your brush, is one that only you can tell. So let it be. Let your story be yours, and my story be mine.

hits me then, an overwhelming sadness for all the things I have lost. My parents were never simply my parents. They were also people who worked for the things they believed in. They believed in me, so they worked to raise me well. They believed in family, so they made a loving home for all of us. And they believed in the decency of human
beings, so much so that it cost them their lives. Their intentions and their actions were always one. That was what made them good, and that was what they tried to teach me.

My body is covered in the syllables of another language, the scroll of a kingdom that has existed long before they did and will continue existing long after they are gone. I am something they cannot fathom. I am something they fear. We all are.

My body is covered in the syllables of another language, the scroll of a kingdom that has existed long before they did and will continue existing long after they are gone. I am something they cannot fathom. I am something they fear. We all are.

er things that I cannot hear under their breath? My body is covered in the syllables of another language, the scroll of a kingdom that has existed long before they did and will continue existing long after they are gone

What does it mean to be a man? My experiences then told me everything: It was a matter of believing oneself invincible and strong, and owed everything

When you are remembered for being the face of tragedy, your face must always be reaching for the center of the earth