The Journey Itself Is My Home Comments

A Tanka Prose


The last time I visited my parents in Taipei, I strolled through Da An, an affluent leafy residential district known for its prominent universities and small publishing houses. I spent half an hour in its winding alleyways and couldn’t find the bookstore I had frequented for 20 years. At first, I felt a surge of panic and, moments later, a stabbing pain in my body. The Taipei I had known was gone.
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