I wrote titles on strips of paper, Books that I planned on reading, On my shelf that contained one empty shelve, I rolled them into *****. And threw them into the cup, Shaking up the titles, I get a Mo Yan. Then I get a Charles Dickens, The paper ***** get reshuffled again. I pick again, it’s Mo Yan. The third time, it’s Mo Yan READ ME, HE YELLS. His short stories were read, a few months ago. Chinese folktale like stories, With satire of Modern China. But none of his novels, were touched. In one of them, The bookmark stops at 300.