I really like this wonderful piece by Alfian Sa'at. I can read it several times over and each time, it finds its way into my heart and warm the strings that hold...
"My father is a fierce man, meaning, obvious. My mother is not so fierce; she is subtler. My father taught me how to write fiction: 'A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room. This is a story. A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room out of fury. This is a plot.' But my mother concentrates on the details. The disfigured insects now buzz to me: 'Do not break my heart, because even after I mend it I cannot restore it as it was before.' In this manner my mother taught me poetry."
"My father is a fierce man, meaning, obvious. My mother is not so fierce; she is subtler. My father taught me how to write fiction: 'A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room. This is a story. A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room out of fury. This is a plot.' But my mother concentrates on the details. The disfigured insects now buzz to me: 'Do not break my heart, because even after I mend it I cannot restore it as it was before.' In this manner my mother taught me poetry."
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