/My earliest memory in the Mountain City./

9, 18, 27...

I vandalized my mental wall, rarely visited by numbers yet a home of paragraphs.

36, 45, 54...

I remember my 3rd grade classmate's words, the 9's are always reversed, like my tears and their laughs.

63, 72, 81...

When they insulted me with words, now paragraphs homed in my mind, turned out it was all true.

90.

My quarterly grade in every subject, I was indeed gay and level 1 autistic. O mirror, what a good age to find you.

81, 72, 63...

My mother was the father in this Mountain City. And I had a mind of someone twice my age.

54, 45, 36...

I was filling the blanks of the multiplication table, while she filled the plates in our tiny table.

27, 18...

"Anak, stop studying too much, come and drink, I carried this fresh milk for 10 kilometers."

9.

Was too young of an age to feel guilt, as the milk was spilt, soured and salted, by her sweat and tears.