The Head-Banging, Headache-Plagued Poet and Me, a Summer Temp at a Hong Kong-Style Cafe (GL)

Avoiding Lin Xi in the mist-locked pavilion, crossing the treacherous ford by night. A lone white boat stretches across the water, making music without a sail.

That is the most beautiful poem I have ever heard.

I once wanted to write a long GL novel, but my terrible grasp of characterization made it impossible, so I cobbled together this short story to test the waters [...]

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