ABSTRACT
In primary school, our teachers taught us that our Chinese motherland was a huge garden and that children like ourselves were flowers in that garden. I took that metaphor to heart and thought that I, along with all my brothers and sisters, would become something bright— flowers or trees—in the garden, testaments to the glory of China. We never planned on the horrible storm that would howl through every corner of the country and sweep the garden bare. That storm was the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.
