Ni Hao Ma

I remember a boy by the name of “How”. I wonder if he remembers me. The young aloof Oreo girl that loved him for no reason despite all the rejected origami messages. The memory of my actions make me smile with embarrassment. For what it’s worth, I hope life has been well with him.

The path of tears

Imagine a little water flowing.

In its path an impassible stone. Quite like a dark fortress not in need of any mote.

Impossible as it may seem, the stream breaks through this boulder.

Once broken, the stream flows on. It grows. More waters from on high run to meet up with it. No longer a little current and neither a raging rapid.

It is a wonderful brook that nourishes so much more than itself.


Yasuke is a story that still needs to be told. Because it’s relevant today. Black people’s aspirations aren’t just bound to making the West “better”. Tell our stories, beyond here.