You came back to us changed, as many do when they disappear into the oceans—even though you are on the other side of the world, the world does not stop without you; you, you are of this world whether you wish to be or not. They never mentioned your name until it was too late—a white man with kanji written down the side of your face, meticulously painted on before every street fight or shouting match where you pretend to have lost the language of your birth; of how to say champion, of how to say mine. When we are tired, we drop the act—like any good giant, you end up dancing; how funny it is to see a body like that move, your thick Atlantic accent reappearing as you forget what was once forgotten. Giants have no choice but to be made up of a sum of their parts, so I believe that you were in there all along, friend. When you are larger than the mountain that bears your name, it is foolish to think you can be everything you wish to be at once.

Brian Oliu currently teaches, writes, and fights out of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. He is the author of two chapbooks and four full-length collections of non-fiction, including the lyric-memoir i/o, and So You Know It's Me, a collection of Craigslist Missed Connections. His book of essays What The World Has Come To: On The Spectacle of Professional Wrestling is forthcoming in 2021 by The University of North Carolina Press. Essays on topics ranging from 8-bit video games, to long distance running, to professional wrestling, appear in Catapult, The Rumpus, Inside Higher Ed, McSweeney's, DIAGRAM, TriQuarterly, Runner's World, Waxwing, Gay Magazine, Denver Quarterly, and elsewhere.