The Next Day, She Was Silent. For

The Light, The Sky, The Water, They Were All Things You Looked *through* During The Day. At Night, They Were Things You Looked *into*. You Looked *into* The Stars, You Looked *into* Dark Rollers And The Surprising Platinum Flash Of Their Caps.

Imagine A World In Which No Writer Has Written A Literary Novel In Sixty Years. Imagine A Place Where Not A Single Person Has Read A Book That Is Truly About The Character At Its Center.

The Next Day, She Was Silent. For Breakfast, She Murdered An Onion And Served It Raw.

I Thought That, With So Much Current Attention Focused On The Topic Of North Korea, I Might Share What I Think Are Three Books Which Cast A Rare Light On The Elusive Realm Of North Korea.

For An Entire Populace, Change, Growth, And Spontaneity Were Dangerous. Acting Upon A Personal Desire, Whispering A Hidden Longing, Revealing Your True Feelings - All The Human Actions We Think Of As Essential To A Character - Had Be Censored By The Self Lest They Be Punished By The State.