Ten poems by Xiao Shui – translated by Irene Chen and Judith Huang
He was seven that year, when his father fell down at home, he picked up the phone, not panicking at all.
His mother, a painter, remarried a retired general, while he chose to avoid enlistment through self-mutilation.
He came from Daejeon, South Korea. In the taxi he gave me an unexpected kiss, then became distant again, like a stone evaporating from a stone.
Finally leaving China, in an airport hotel, he decided to once more experience the thrill of a stranger.