six outtakes from the last few days.
1. incredible light at cafe initial from the other day. 2. the perfection of a view yesterday morning. 3. noticing shadows during my walks around sheung wan. 4. rasta, red converse, favorite pair of jeans 5. sunset through my drapes just as I woke up from a nap. 6. a bout de souffle; adoring the sun lines on my wall.
something about the last few days reminded me of that october a few years back. I was alone in the city, just like now, waiting. waiting every minute of every day because putting down words of uncertainty became unbearable. but everything else is different. I am trying to focus on the little things. one day a time. I still haven’t figured out what’s the opposite of disappearing. I am thinking in fragments, my thoughts scattered around the harbor. floating in the air; I am never sure what it is I am thinking until many days later when the pieces come together. it doesn’t make sense, of course, it doesn’t. you don’t have to tell me. I cannot leave the city, I am back to exercising the art of escapism. writing lists of foreign words because it makes me feel like I am closer to understanding of my surroundings. two different worlds; living through experiences. the words burned a hole in my mind. I couldn’t sleep and stayed up all night, searching for an excuse. what do you do when things that once used to be enough, more than enough, don’t even satisfy you anymore? what do you do when you lose yourself? what can you do? I am the most miserable person I know. I cannot separate myself from his words. I wish I could.
two hottest days of the year have been replaced with rain and heavy clouds; they linger over the buildings of the financial district. they’re less of a protection, more of a warning. often I find myself gazing in the direction across the harbor as if there is something hidden in the streets. but there isn’t. it’s just my life and those endless nights of passing hours between drinks and slurred conversations. I remember the last time, it was raining heavily and raindrops fell into my glass repeatedly. I wrote in my journal; words penned in the dark interior of joyce’s. consistency of the importance of that little bar worries me sometimes because it feels like we will never find even a remotely similar place to waste our nights at. wasted youth. but I regret nothing. I am thinking about the city of north, wondering where will the next months take me. everything feels uncertain; I am stepping into a big unknown, wearing my heart on the sleeve. but there are no hopes, nothing. I only hope that I will be able to make the right decision. I am trying, believe me, I am trying.
the other night I ran into the french boy and I was incredibly glad not to had been wearing the ‘I heart french boys’ t-shirt. I am already in enough trouble as it is. I am afraid I don’t know how to stand on my own anymore. but every once in a while I force myself to, just so I make sure that I still can.
I wish we learnt how to trust each other.