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“You’ll let me fall in love again? I laugh as I write this. Don’t you realize I fall in love with you every day? On the bus home today I thought I wasn’t loving you consistently, nor was I loving you more and more; rather, I was falling in love with you again every day. Strange, isn’t it? What I want most of all is to give you a home, as figurative as it is real. The letter I most want to write to you is the ordinary “How’s everything going at home?” My only wish is to build you a home, the kind that would always just be there, whether or not you returned, whether or not you wanted it, whether or not you cared.”

Excerpt From Last Words from Montmartre, Qiu Miaojin