In all the time, Xiaoxuan Huang crafts a profound exploration of queer longing, the fragility of language, and the spaces between speech and silence. Blending love letters, fragmented aphorisms, and poems where silence itself becomes a punctuation mark, this genre-defying collection asks: If words can never fully capture what we mean, do we still dare to speak?Rooted in poetic rigor and philosophical inquiry, all the time insists on the urgency of address, even when words falter. It is poetry that thinks as deeply as it feels, inviting readers to linger in the liminal spaces between breath, memory, and meaning. For those who seek works that blur the lines between theory and heartache, this is a luminous testament to the necessity of speaking—even when the destination remains unknown.

In all the time, Xiaoxuan Huang crafts a profound exploration of queer longing, the fragility of language, and the spaces between speech and silence. Blending love letters, fragmented aphorisms, and poems where silence itself becomes a punctuation mark, this genre-defying collection asks: If words can never fully capture what we mean, do we still dare to speak?Rooted in poetic rigor and philosophical inquiry, all the time insists on the urgency of address, even when words falter. It is poetry that thinks as deeply as it feels, inviting readers to linger in the liminal spaces between breath, memory, and meaning. For those who seek works that blur the lines between theory and heartache, this is a luminous testament to the necessity of speaking—even when the destination remains unknown.