By Anne Zhang

iridescent bulbs clothed as festive red lanterns, strings of painted characters accented by wistful yearning. mother, twisting through mountains and seas of bodies – it’s a familiar dance of patience and persistence, as heat rolls through warm pastries and braised duck. desires of sustenance as bills are doled out for this week’s special – trades of mutual benefit. ringing voices of rapid fire fujian dialect fight for a place in your attention, offering fresh pineapple buns and honey-sweet melon for twenty yuan – no fifteen. discordant, disorienting, but delightful.

my favourite: steaming bowls of tangyuan spooned out in ceramic boats; i puff out quick breaths in anticipation, fragrant pockets of black sesame, steam fogging my glasses. grits of sugar coat my tongue with the taste of transformed tragedy. i share the red bean with my mother – it is her favourite but not mine. i lament my imposterous preferences.

pulled into stalls of sweet canes piled high, i pluck two from the stall, carrying them like staffs. big bites and long fibres, juice that’s near saccharine – i chew it like gum then dispose of it like tissue. i reach for royal refreshment, and find frosty breath on warm atmosphere, my disguised eden. 

here, on the west side,
i eat in sterile plastic,
longing for fujian.

–

Anne Zhang is a Grade 11 student living in Vancouver. Her work has been published in multiple venues such as Polar Expressions, Ambré Magazine, and VPL ink. She also writes for her local newspaper “The Campus Resident”. She can usually be found training in the pool or curled up with a good read.