[APPLAUSE]
We have time for one more.
And then I'll just play the translation.
Do you want something fun?
Prostitution.
That's actually not fun, unfortunately.
But yeah.
[LAUGHTER]
But it's fast.
And I'll play it.
It's all sad.
Actually, the really fun one is the Hollywood one,
but no one ever chooses that.
Right.
Oh.
Give it to us.
[VIDEO PLAYBACK]
Hold Sorrow.
Imagine a farm, a famine.
Your mother promised you'll learn tailoring.
Imagine your father pocketing $600.
Now here's the boat.
Its black planks wet with fog.
Here is the room holding a bed, no mirror, your wash basin.
You have one window wired to face the street.
He will keep his pants on, his greasy shirt, his shoes.
Imagine the quarter pressed after into your palm.
Your street will be named for presidents you never heard of,
the city's lights like strings of blood and puddles.
Imagine, if you could, you'd carve your father's name
on a knife tip.
At night, only the train cries.
Your door locks from the outside.
[END PLAYBACK]
Yeah, I won't read the note.
You'll have to buy the book, but it's a killer.