I was born in the summer.

Maniniwei says she has two mothers: one is her mother from her hometown in Malaysia, and the other is Ah Mei, her cat in the Taipei basin.
She also says that in Malaysia there is no such thing as "summer," only hot days and very hot days.
Maniniwei, who grew up in the equatorial summer, moved to Taipei to study fine arts in college, experiencing cold winters and humid summers. The climate and cultural differences made her acutely aware of her longing for sunshine, her yearning for her hardworking and guileless mother, and the comfort and strength her cat brought her.

Time and again, whenever she faced the struggles or gloom of life in a foreign land, Maniniwei used her paintings and poetic writings to gather warmth, confronting the cold and the despondency. This book records the vibrant colors of life in her Malaysian hometown: dense green palm oil groves, flocks of dark and robust crows, her resilient mother, and confident Malay boys who soak in the river when they have a fever. She hopes to bring abundant passionate energy to those who read this book.

Highlights from the book:
"Both my mothers are masterpieces of God. A mother, by definition, is a masterpiece of God."
"I feel energized when I write about my mother. There's no simpler subject."
"The things my mother asks me to do would drive a person crazy. Like organizing old rags and clothes, washing discarded cabinets."
"In her eyes, I am beyond help. Incapable of anything. Not even earning money. Seemingly artistic, full of character, but utterly useless."
"Ah Mei is my second mother. She's so robust and warm. Leaning on her feels like leaning on my mother. She's the best mother when she doesn't speak."
"I've given up resisting. I accept those formalities. But for injustice and unfairness, I will still resist. Because being human is a blessing, and I share a close, intimate blessing with my 'fake' mother."