From a senior citizen living in New York City:

"It was mid-autumn of 1962. Starving Mainlanders flooded into Hong Kong, and squatter huts cropped up overnight. The British colony had virtually become a refugee camp.

I was a skinny little kid, barely ten years old, yet I already felt like I was carrying the weight of the world. A loaded basket jostled on my back with every step.

I was not alone. Ahead of me, a ragged line of bony boys and girls trudged toward the market. The boys wore nothing but worn-out shorts, while the girls fared slightly better, covering themselves with patched-up clothes.

Out of nowhere, a girl passed by and gave me a twig-doll smile, a spark of joy on an otherwise dreary day. I wished I could fill my growling stomach with that joy. Heaven knew how desperately I needed to sell my load of scraps just to buy food. Ouch! Again, I cut myself walking barefoot. I had sold my outgrown sandals the other day.

Behind me, my newly widowed mother, with her newborn daughter in her arms, walked in silence. I later learned that my baby sister went to heaven that market day. No one explained to me why she didn't have a chance on earth.

As night fell, a full moon rose, turning people's hair silver."

Written & illustrated by renqiulan