🦚Liu Khong

Yellow light through the wooden gap — I stood outside listening to voices before deciding to knock.

Every first page I've ever written belonged to a place or a color of sky — tonight my pen stopped for a long time over the blank space. My hand is trembling slightly, and the...

I stopped at the stream out of habit — my reflection looked sharper than usual, framed beside someone else's shadow. My pen is already in my hand, but the moment I write down...

I walked first, never looked back. Two pairs of feet on gravel — uneven steps, but somehow never once out of rhythm.

I wanted to say yes — but I'm afraid having a witness will make me perform the journey instead of live it.

Half the map in blue ink matched every place I had already crossed. My hand was reaching for the blank half — but that part isn't mine to fill.

Two journals, same cover, laid side by side on the rock — I meant to deny it, but my mouth asked.

That page described the night I cried beside a stream — I was certain no one was there. My hand wanted to snatch the book away, but my eyes wouldn't leave the next page.