nous sommes infinie


lokua kanza keeps me company this morning. his soft, quiet tones have a strange calming effect. also, it is my single favorite musician from DRC. not that it somehow matters, but I have become quite acquainted with the music of africa. and then some. of course, the boy has had a profound impact on that, but in a way, he only made want to explore more. know more, learn more. when someone inspires you for the smallest things, perhaps that should be a good sign.

in hong kong, the month of november is a gloomy one. it rains a lot and temperatures drop below twenty degrees, which for most population means it’s time for warm coats, scarves and extra layers. myself included. I still struggle with certain things when it comes to the two of us, but at least, I take his jacket now without saying a word. it’s not fair, but I’ve learnt to live with it. other things; not so much. it took me so long to get home last night, because we stood on the street, argued and talked through everything that’s been on my heart for the past three days. I wondered whether this was our end. but no. I need to learn how to trust. how to let go. how many times will I have to say it. just because I have been hurt before doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again. don’t be naive. sleeping is my usual way of dealing with things. he’s trying to teach me how to talk. he’s been teaching me a lot of things.

talk to me, please. talk to me, I am here. I can see something’s wrong.
I am hurting, you know.

it’s all I could say and it wasn’t fair. life is not fair. but is it even supposed to be? I need to start journaling again. some of the best words I have ever written were the ones I couldn’t rewrite without tearing out the page. the line between a writer’s block and simple unwillingness is very thin and in my case, it is slowly disappearing altogether.

I am disappearing.

images of hong kong: around shanghai street

red against the blue. hong kong against the sky.

tak sang pawn shop.

freshly painted red house. I want to live there.

paralel lines.

I always wondered where the smell of fresh limes come from. turns out they peel them and sell the skins and fruits separately. incredible sweet scent of limes and oranges.


traditional chinese jewellery .

pawn shop.

you’re ugly. have a nice day.

coconut master. some of the best seafood restaurants are located along this strip.

yellow lines.

back on the main road. this building always fascinated me.

hey mickey

the boy. some time in october. we ate chicken with our hands and looked up at non-existent stars on the sky.

last night.

he didn’t tell me he was coming to pick me up, he just showed up. come, I am downstairs. we bought each other a pair of identical rings and tiny mickey mouse earrings. but I refuse to have my ears pierced. monday didn’t seem like a monday. it was a beautiful day. the weather was clear and sunny. I took trains from one side to the other, getting things done. when the sun began to set down; casting gold glow over city, I returned home. a book, a mug of milk and chocolate. my evenings are becoming simpler and quieter. over the weekend I slept more than thirty hours in total and I was reminded of what it’s like to feel rested. the nice feeling of it. when you can wake up in the middle of the night, thinking it’s time for a new day. but it’s not and you return to the warm layers of blankets and pillows, falling away into sweet slumber.

later in the night, we sat on the stairs below the museum, bustling harbor in front of us. a group of break dancers were having a practice. they were out of sync and it made him nostalgic. as it turns out, he used to dance himself. it wasn’t hard to imagine as much as it was a reminder of how many things I am yet to discover.

we always go back to the night we first met, all the odds against us and everything we will have to do. rarely, we make plans but the thinking about the future is there. quiet, between the lines, it’s there somewhere. the other night, I read through the last three months’ worth of daily writings, which are directed to him. ups and downs, endless nights and blinding sunbeam of days. we have established a number of small rituals, without which I cannot really imagine my life anymore. not because they are somehow meaningful, but because they aren’t.

remembering everything is a good thing, but it also means you will never forget anything. not having to be the sole historian of this relationship makes me relax in a way. knowing that I won’t have to do it all by myself, knowing that he’s there somewhere.

it’s a nice feeling. it makes everything else easier.

volume twenty-five: roadside bar

beginning of november.

perhaps it’s time I admit that I have a certain obsession with red lanterns. but look! they’re so pretty!

one of the hidden bars. and lanterns, of course.

I love these stars that hang at the roadside bar.

overhead light.


pretty candle light.

candle light and esperanza.

it seems like every time I am taking pictures I am drinking a mojito.