The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng
- I fill my lungs to the brim and exhale. Seeing my own breath take shape, this cobweb of air that only a second ago had been inside me, I remember the sense of wonder it used to bring. The fatigue of the past months drains from my body, only to flood back into me a moment later.
- Though the water has stopped flowing, we still hear the whisper of its name.