When I first came to the United States, I lived in a motel for a long time. I saw an enclosed universe whose inner walls were enveloped in dirty wallpaper. The only two people I encountered there were a cleaning lady and her child. In our silence, I saw some opaque medium, a kind of loneliness flowing beneath the surface of repetitive daily life.
I want to recreate memories from that time in this narrative and continue one possibility within it—What small longings would they have in this world? Where would these small longings lead them to?
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