avant qu’elle parte, un

april started with a delicious dinner at the boathouse and a couple of bad photographs that I am keeping in one of my photography folders just for the memories. we were surrounded by the color blue and salty scent of the ocean. I was reminded of home and my mind kept drifting away. still, many details stayed with me. I wore red jeans that night. then the mattress on the floor and chocolate fudge cake with white english breakfast tea; our minds clouded with elation.

april fool’s day was supposed to be different but it wasn’t. if there is one thing I could change, it would be that day. cidade de deus was screened at joyce is not here. filmmaker was asleep in a drunken slumber on the couch. just like many years ago when I met him first. I sat quietly and waited for the film to finish. that night I walked around the streets with nowhere to go. I stayed out until the small hours of morning and crashed on a couch at someone’s place. someone I don’t speak to anymore. gypsy’s night, gypsy’s heart. I wrote in the morning at the bus station; the three palms in kowloon city. a paper cup with cheap coffee and seven dollar noodles for breakfast. I spent the last coins on a pack of cigarettes and walked home four kilometers; simply because I could and it did not matter. later that day I purchased chanel’s chance. simply because I could and it did not matter.

one night at joyce’s, a stranger said to me: keep writing. I sat on a high bar stool with a journal and a glass of red wine and thought this was the life I was supposed to live. in my mind I named the man Joe because he looked like one. strong american accent. he was surprised when I went to use the restroom leaving all of my belongings unattended. I said to him, it’s okay. we’re at joyce’s. the real joyce laughed at this and offered us a free drink. that night I was alone and didn’t mind at all.

April 28, 2012