“If he’d read a different book by a different writer at just the right time in his life he’d have been a different man.”- Zoe on Luther.
october days are still warm, but cooler than the hottest summer months. the air slowly shifts into autumnal atmosphere and the year’s end feels much closer than it was just two weeks ago. I linger in bed for as long as I can. not even the idea of a perfectly sized mug of coffee can get me up on time these days. my head is filled with images of places around the world. places I haven’t been to, places that will only become reality one day. absentmindedly, I compiled the list a few days ago; returning to it now is such a burden. banaue rice terraces in the philippines; blue mountains in jamaica; lake tanganyika in congo; hvar island in croatia; kynsa elephant park in south africa; blue lagoon in iceland. the list goes on. my mind wanders.
over the weekend, encouraged by wanderlust and the need for a change of scenery, father and I headed out to cheung sha wan beach. located on one of the outlying islands of hong kong, it doesn’t feel like the city itself at all. a little escape, a delusion of pretending we are somewhere entirely else. we ordered late lunch, sipped cold beverages in the heat of the afternoon. south african chicken with baby spinach topped with pine nuts and sultanas. wine flowed and sun generously warmed my legs. my hair turned into gold and I felt at peace. I thought of nothing. we talked through the entire afternoon, watching people and feeling the sand beneath our toes. my feet sank into the sand with such ease; the thought of moving directly onto the beach crossed my mind more than once. but a different beach, perhaps. I swam parallel with the waves of the pacific ocean, which seemed much stronger than I remembered them. the energy of moment made me feel alive. nothing makes me feel the way the ocean can. I swam and dived deep into the waters, emerging every once in a while only to catch my breath. the sun was huge. the strongest shade of red; like the japanese flag. as it disappeared behind the mountains of lantau island, the entire bay bathed in pink glow of dusk. everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. or so I thought.
the only person I can blame on the current state of text purgatory is, really, myself only. I fell under the false impression that things could be solved this way. water under the bridge, no bad blood, no hard feelings. for a second, I thought it would be possible. incorrigible is incorrigible. I searched my brain for subtle references that I could turn to when my own words failed, but I missed the opportunity. I could have been a different person, if I hadn’t read white oleander. I completely believe that. I also believed in us. and now, all the things that are being said are making everything worse. but there’s no stopping. then again, what’s another year of silence?
october is not as sweet as I was hoping it would be.