Imagine you’re an infant or child left alone in a long, dark tunnel. Your voice cries out, but no one can hear you. You reach out a hand, desperate for the warmth of your mother.
They used to sell miniature horoscope scrolls at our grocery store checkout lanes. Every month, I begged for the chance to read my fate spelled out as fact on pastel paper. I’d spend an hour poring over each word, preparing for what to expect.
While many readers have reported that KEURIUM has helped them heal, certain content might be triggering for some. This guide is for wannabe readers who are nervous about certain themes and depictions shifting their emotional balance. It contains spoilers.
Not long after I was born, it was decided that I would become someone new. Too young to understand or protest, I was ripe for the taking. At six months old, I boarded a plane in South Korea. My escort reported that I wouldn’t sleep. When I landed in North America, a sea of white faces surrounded me. Hands patted my clothes and skin. New sounds and smells flooded my senses. It was a big day for two strangers and their two daughters because from this day forward, I was to wear their mask of adoption.
I was about seven years old when it happened. Sitting in the living room, as I liked to after dinner, I gazed out the bay window at the stars in the sky. There was a big etched vase with decorative feathers sweeping out of it. I’d often get lost in my thoughts as my eyes traced the swirls of its surface. My father had come home late from work and was, as usual, upset with the state of the place.