On the Zoom screen, acclaimed writer Ocean Vuong donned a pair of tortoise shell glasses. In the background was a geometric array of potted plants hanging from his wall. He opened the virtual conversation with the ringing of a bell, a meditative gesture that prompted listeners to “call back” past versions of themselves. He read a poem titled “Not Even” from his forthcoming collection to the faceless audience of over one thousand participants. One particular line resonated powerfully: “What if it wasn’t the crash that made me, but the debris?” Though people often possess a deep aversion to the past, Vuong does not yield to this impulse. The enduring resonance of his texts emerges from his willingness to continually revisit the past as a space of reclamation and dialogue.