" ...I dig in; but not before catching my squatting figure in the mirror, that gleaming mirage; so like my father from this distance I stop chewing, analysing hardened cheekbones and vacant eyes; a son long abandoned by his father (forced to move out, as a young adult, on account of his sexuality) now his father's diminutive likeness; an ironic narrative about genetics and its unfunny punch line, since I offer no offspring of my own to further the tale; no passing on of love's disavowal either; how cool the noodles taste in my mouth, unmemorable yet oddly reassuring... "

― Cyril Wong , Ten Things My Father Never Taught Me and Other Stories