"One day I decided that I was beautiful, and so I carried out my life as if I was a beautiful girl. I wear colors that I really like, I wear makeup that makes me feel pretty, and it really helps. It doesn’t have anything to do with how the world perceives you. What matters is what you see. Your body is your temple, it’s your home, and you must decorate it."
crow boy tao
zitao first sees the birds when he moves into the orphanage. he’s thirteen, and each time he breathes, zitao can still smell the disinfected scent of the hospital he’d left, the stench of illness seeping through the cracks, and so he spends most of his time outside alone, for the fresh air.
before, when he’d still been living with his parents, zitao had been a bit of a loner, one of the quiet boys that sat in the back, that ate lunch alone and spent recess reading under the slide. at first it was because of the language barrier when they moved, and then later just because that’s how he was. it’s not any different here, solitary meals and playtime, though there’s more quiet kids like zitao than before. it makes sense, zitao thinks: there’s less to talk about when you haven’t got a home.
"I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me."