Today my boss told me my writing had no emotional impact. In turn, he shared with me a Chinese poem that a friend had given him on the death of his mother. I cried for hours after reading the poem, he said to me, and I understood the feeling very well.

I’ve cried only two times in my lifetime.

The first, when I was born, and I can’t remember that time.

The second, when you left me, but you aren’t here to see it.

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