Last summer, I found my absolute favorite novel. The dystopian beauty that is Yōko Ogawa’s The Memory Police enraptured my delight in science fiction, and frankly, literature. It was unreally romantic, twisting, unreal. It is difficult to imagine finding something I could love more than the single pdf of this novel, annotated black at the margins. But this summer, I will try.

I will begin with classics—a somewhat shadowy beast I had escaped by my heels for so long. I am always surprised by how differently people wrote, how differently they lived. I am always wistful, even though I have never lived through those times.

I will save room for translations. Han Kang, Ken Liu, Aoko Matsuda. I expect them to be revolutionary and strange. Harrowing and immiscibly unique, as is always the case with translations. I will read what I do not fully understand, what can never be completely represented in its original form and meanings, in these translations.

I would like to charter a line for screenplays as well. I have not enjoyed reading them as much as watching them acted out, thus far. It is difficult to bring everything to life in my head—is what I tell myself, when I am able to do so just fine with any novel, poem, or line. I would like to try this again. To bring something to life in my own imagination, more than it could ever be by others.

Lastly, I would like something brand new. I do not know yet what to expect. I am going to ask my teachers, my friends, my parents. I could spin a wheel and throw a dart. I do not know what I do not know, but I could always read it. This summer is that time.