volume twenty-two: beijing, china (part one)

I liked the street signs more than anything else.

real turkish coffee. turkish mum.

this is beijing for you.

dongzhimenwai.

another shot from a bridge. opposite croatian embassy.

cheese and spinach pita. we didn’t any chinese/asian food whilst in beijing.

greek salad. with real feta cheese.

another one. I have another ten shots just like this one.

compulsory hotel-mirror shot.

the habit of being

hey boy.

october was a blur and this is all I remember now.

with him days are like nights, nights are like days. I am slowly getting used to the daily routines of being in a relationship. I’d forgotten what it’s like. in retrospect, I am not sure why I was fighting against it for such a long time. of course, I know the answer but right now it’s not really relevant. I haven’t been writing but in the last three or four weeks I have taken many images, which sit on my hard disc now; waiting to be released.

beijing was refreshing; cold. we ate cevapi and drank turkish coffee, entirely ignoring chinese cousine. the weather cleared out and most days were graced with blue skies and crisp air. I missed the boy a lot. mother has been away for the entirety of this month and we are just waiting for her to come back. there has been a couple of bad days but mostly it’s just good. endless nights with the boy. often we’d see seven in the morning and the grease of having mcdonald’s for breakfast. some of our traditions are more of a regularity now. apart from my quick trip to china, not a day has passed without me seeing the warm glow of his brown eyes. we are closer to each other now than we have ever been before. seventy dollars for two hours is not bad at all, what do you think? I bought him a pair of shoes, made a friendship bracelet in rasta colours. I leave tiny bits of myself every time I stay at his place so he can find them later.

I write daily miniature letters and hope one day he will able to read them. last week was significant in terms of parties. an anniversary, two birthdays. the little one is walking around in her trolley, fully aware of people around her. we picked presents for them together and held hands as we rose higher, staring at the night above us. he looked incredibly luscious in front of the barbecue; the naked chief. he laughed the way he always does, lowering his head to his knees. little stars and fireworks inside our minds. we spend most of our nights together in sweet nothingness. my favorite place is to be is together.

october was sweet. filled with love making, spoonfuls of noodles and semolina, nights out, foosball and infinite walks around hong kong neighbourhoods. I wish things could stay like this forever.

trick me once, trick me twice

last night. bottled apple cider instead of gin tonics. marlboro ice blast instead of light menthols. I spend less time on the island and more between the colorful streets of mong kok and kowloon city. I’m beginning to think that love is too much of a burden and that I was happier when I cared less. on the other hand, I do not want to give him up. I am split, broken between two choices that aren’t choices to begin with. I am not sure what to do next. some days I wake up and feel like the biggest failure that has ever walked the face of this earth. today being one of them. I’d be more of a morning person if I could wake up next to you every day.

I grew tired of waiting for him. so I went to sleep, only to wake up to four missed calls and a bunch of messages. I dreamt of too many things last night. they all blended into a mess. it felt like a beating. images of things I do not want to think about; they keep coming back. they warned me about this but I was so sure I’d be strong enough. and yet how? I refused to reach out. but the images. random but fully connected at the same time. some girls fighting, a tennis court, yellow balls, pregnant bellies and plastic bags with kebabs. the other night we ate at the kebab place and I felt remorse. the falling whistle, the annoying orange t-shirt. the entrance and the irish place. I hadn’t been up there for months. I just dislike it all so much now. some days I am better at pretending not to remember anything than others. the last few days have been particularly bad and despite hardly ever being alone, loneliness surrounds me. I am missing my home, my grandmothers, my mother.

I am looking up flights once again. soon, I will be up in the air. soon.

avant qu’elle parte, huit

sources: one, two.

mostly quiet days. I slept through the weekend, again. seventeen and then fourteen hours of sleep. there’s always a message for me when I wake up. filmmaker finally returned from his twelve-day journey around european cities and a happy-happy hour (because what else is $23 per a drink) was more of an automatic decision than a choice. twilight turned into evening, evening turned into four in the morning. dusk came but barely anyone took any notice. the boy and I returned to my apartment building before three but I didn’t want to go home. we ate ice cream and laughed. jumped on a random bus that took us on the other end of the city. tseung kwan o; I swear I’d only been there once before in my life. we fell asleep on each other’s shoulders and ignored the darkness. by the time we made our way back the MTR opened again. the car was empty. I saw occasional glimpses of the sun coming up when the train surfaced above the ground. it was a cool morning; incredibly fresh coated in dark blue and grey. the city was deserted, quiet.

we take daily walks around our neighborhoods. noodles and chicken curry for dinner. a few times a month we hide in the cinema. or we stay home on the sofa, watching a cartoon. rio has become our favorite. we found our favorite spot to eat a pizza or just share a bottle. sometimes we’re alone, sometimes we run into people. sometimes we drink champagne, even though we both hate champagne. but it doesn’t matter because everything else around is okay. in balance. we’ve found a way how to cohabit without disrupting the waves of our ocean. the night falls around us as we light our cigarettes and search for stars even thought there are not there. they live within us. just like the dreams fed from our youth and hunger for more. that’s what we are: always hungry for more. we’ve become them, the couple, those two. in september, I started writing daily miniature letters to him. our lives put into a chronology of heart-shaped finger prints on our bodies. leaving traces anywhere we go; hong kong will always remember us.

our beginning, our story.