Interface Cold. Not an ice cube cold or frost bitten cold. Not the kind of cold that engendered warmth—rosy cheeks, teary eyes. Not the kind of cold that made you question if you really did feel warm, or if your body was gaslighting your mind, lighting an imaginary gas. The refrigerator light flickers. Cold, but…

Beyond culinary exchange, the arrival of Western fast food chains in China constitutes a profound transformation of social space that has particular implications for gender dynamics. Since Kentucky Fried Chicken’s grand opening in Beijing in 1987, followed by McDonald’s sweeping success in the early 1990s, these establishments have become cultural sites where traditional Chinese gender…

“I went and saw the tulips today.” There was no moon tonight. The sky hung low, a damp sheet of gray, and the pond had swallowed its own reflections. No ripples, only sound—a wet, rhythmic hush, like someone turning pages in the dark. “You told me the best time to go was in early May,…

A temperate breeze signals the arrival of spring in Shanghai. 春风, spring wind—not quite warm enough to slightly ease the tension in your eyelids, but also not cool enough to leave a soft twang across the highest points of your cheekbones, a memory of its nimble yet elusive agility.  “You see your name here? On…

In 2015, the MET Gala announced the annual theme for its highly anticipated event: “China: Through the Looking Glass”. Displayed on the header of the MET’s “select images page”, where commoners like me could take a digital gander at its fashionable offerings, was what I believed to be a vase.  Later, I discovered this image…

Night after night, the madman by the sea stalks the shore  Pocketing sea glass that whispers of absence, kissing each shard with a motherly fondness  What I know of solitude, you shall know—each splinter an echo hidden in the tide Night after night, he scavenges the shore’s edge, gathers scattered memories, cellulose promises lost in…

“Look! Over there! There’s a herd!” My eyes squint tersely, fighting the fiery glare of the sun’s setting rays. I watch as a smattering of teenage boys scampers hurriedly towards the shoreline, legs clunkily attempting and failing to step over the rhythmic barrage of waves. There’s a futility in watching them battle the ocean: those…

Four months ago, I was in the middle of a stubborn and severe writer’s block. When this happens, I turn to the cobweb-ridden vault of miscellaneous papers in my Zotero. These are the articles I tuck away with a swift click, their titles promising interesting reads that I tell myself I’ll get to “later”. Always…

And then, he reached out to hold my hand while he put the other on the small of my back. It was dark and he knows I always trip over that curb. In the comfort in her own room, she indulges in this memory. She closes her eyes and tries to picture the feeling of…

My family often jokes about my “world class palette”. Italian, Japanese, Korean, German, and French—my home cooked meals growing up never strictly adhered to the Northeastern Chinese diet. They were often more representative of a United Nations Conference—-spaghetti noodle soup with soba concentrate topped with kimchi and meatballs. Baguettes dipped in olive oil and balsamic…