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(t)here
Lake Michigan's surface area is 1.6 times that of Taiwan.
My first year in Chicago — I would stand at its horizon and stare.
Taiwan, New Year's Eve. A college student skips the train, jumps on her scooter, rides five hours straight to grandmother's house to make it to the reunion dinner.
Back to the horizon. The lake stretches beyond sight. I imagine the island lifted from the Pacific and placed onto the water — if I rode five hours south from here, would I find her?
It is a map of longing, a topographic monologue to the geography of absence.
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