Two years before his death, my father gave me a small suitcase filled with his writings, manuscripts1 and notebooks. Assuming his usual joking, mocking2 air, he told me he wanted me to read them after he was gone, by which he meant after he died. A week after he came to my office and left me his suitcase, my father came to pay me another visit; as always, he brought me a bar of chocola (共 5398 字) [閱讀本文] >>