An excerpt from Hair Is.

by Tai Jin Kang

I am looking at a girl. I take pleasure in the summer breeze outside of Berry Chill yogurt ice cream shop on a summer day while examine a girl walking towards the shop. I notice she has the right proportion from her ankle to knee, her knee to waist, her waist to chest, and her chest to ear. I also find that she has a tiny head with fierce eyes. Her round nose follows nicely with her round eyebrows. My eyes follow her round shapes and then find nice curves through her waist and they end with her back. She really meets my visual expectations. However, it won’t be enough for me. I have to find a perfect match for my nose and ten little fingers. They are choosy enough to overcome visual pleasure.

My nerves are very picky at things, especially for hair. But they never follow ordinary standards. Rather, they lead to my memory.

I was not well nurtured thanks to my thirteen month-old younger brother. My parents were old enough to make a family quickly when they married, so I had to understand them and give away the seat of my mom’s bosom to him. In most of my memories, I am leaning on her back pursuing other pleasure rather than oral. Since my brother was a weeper, I couldn’t steal his seat. I remember. I was enviously staring at him sleeping while torturing my mom’s hair sniffing it. There are few reasons that explain my addiction to hair. It is an image from my memory that I always sit on her back. It is a smell that made me really relaxed at that time. But, It is a feeling of being deprived of care.