my day starts at seven in the morning, finishes at one. there’s work, and there are responsibilities and there’s taking care of other people’s jobs and making sure everything is done and finished and on time and the way it should be. there’s running around the city, from admiralty to kowloon to jordan to central back to jordan to ho man tin to tsim sha tsui back to prince edward through mong kok back to jordan. and by that time it is already seven in the evening. in the mean time, I am trying to stuff in some time for lunch, and chinese characters and my writing cravings and the need to look at beautiful pictures and read other people’s words. I am currently reading gabriel marguez garcia’s autobiography. it is poetic and entertaining. I wish I was spanish sometimes. or colombian. or something like that.
living to tell a tale. yesterday was too hot and too humid, but as soon as the sun set down it seemed to me everything eased up a little bit. I sat with my mother and a friend on a roof of our hotel, drinking mojitos and talking, chatting, discussing everything and anything that came to our minds. I received a phone call, I received another opportunity to take photographs of my friends playing live music tomorrow night. I am looking forward to it. I ended up going to SoHo, talking to bobby and my filmmaker. we laughed a lot. political puns and sarcastic satire. we are good at it. sohome was quiet and I was interested in a woman across the street. loved her simplistic style and hair. no make up, flip flops and pajama pants. I was wondering where my own simplicity disappeared. I feel I am getting lost in the corporate world, forgetting what it’s like to be free. it made me quiet last night. we took our last drink at the 71. people sitting outside on beach chairs, eating watermelons, drinking. someone was playing on an acoustic guitar. a very bad version of angie. it was a quiet night, filled with laughter and endless bowls of peanuts. I went home well before the last train.
I am starting to feel better a little.