Dearest 豆腐花,
Remember the days when I was yea high, and Mum used to take me to the markets with her some mornings? She didn't want me in her way as she haggled with fishmongers and vegetable sellers, so she left me in your tender care.
I remember being sat down at one of the half dozen tables at the tofu stall where you lived, swinging my little legs from the rickety red plastic stool on which I was perched, waiting for you.
And then there you were - sat before me, white...