" We are nothing like the gods. We will never be
remembered for the time we attempted
the waltz on our balcony, as the stars
blinked drowsily, the moon like a frozen yawn.

Even with one of us gone, would not the mind
of the other reveal its universe, its constellation
of memories like a field of flickering candles,
the same face at the center of every flame? "

― Cyril Wong