Emiru, of pearly complexion, you remind me of your Han ancestors – how I would love to see you robed in the crimson silk they would’ve worn! I wonder, does Mizkif ever play a wispy-bearded Emperor? Do you play his concubine? Does he chase you through palace quarters? Do you feign fatigue so he can catch up to you, clasp you, hold you close to him and bury your face in his chest? And tell me, when you’re lying with your Emperor Mizkif in the stillness of night, what do you dream? Do you dream of a hill garbed in heavy morning fog? Do you dream of a solitary shrine glowing with the light of a solitary flame lit by a lonely monk who every night dreams he’s a young pearly-faced lady being chased through strange corridors and rooms by a strange looking man talking in a strange language but despite the strangeness of it all is neither scared nor lonely but rather happy because for some reason he knows he’s home at last? Emiru, my Han angel, have you ever dreamed you’re a lonely man atop a lonely hill?
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