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American Dream | Rich Zou

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Bunk beds, washing dishes at eight, and joining xAI.

American Dream | Rich Zou American Dream i. My mom and I shared a bunk bed until I was seventeen. Top and bottom, tiny room, Henry Street. She worked so much I'd sometimes go days only seeing the shape of her sleeping above me when I came home late from school. Or I'd wake up at 2am and she'd just be getting back, moving quietly so she wouldn't wake me with lingering smells from the restaurant. That's the thing I remember most. The smell of cooking oil in her hair. Everyday. All the time. ii. I was maybe eight or nine when I got scared watching a movie alone in the apartment. The light shifted

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