< I wrote below the Chinese article earlier this morning, then my friend KW just now translated into English ... Writing connects people together ... Here's is his translation >
It's actually very late at 3:35am and any regular person should be resting.
I am yet to do so.
Because there is a hollowness beneath the chest that is refraining me from sleep. Even though I'm lying down.
Days are at its disorderly fashion. It could've been better If I saw Big Brother in Shanghai on 7th of August. There was a typhoon attack and it hit me like the ripples of a lake.
What's with this planet?
The planet is ill.
The planet became absurd and superficial. The only remaining ultimate aim is to use each other as instruments. Those tasteless and empty things they speak of had my expressions pale and fragile.
I am only nostalgic of the European travel days where unfamiliar tourists speak of the skies and the earth from philosophy, literature, music, theatre. Quality time became part of day without restraint. There were words of every root language where the wide skies met the seas. And then, we break apart with mutual respect, disappearing amongst the memories of itinerant rivers and lakes.
"Disappearing amongst the memories of itinerant rivers and lakes", are a combination of the world's most beautiful words used together. I am unable to imply the meaning of "rivers and lakes" to my non-Chinese speaking friends.
The unrestrained nature dashing with refined elegance. The unruly. The vast boundlessness. The aloof loneliness. Without alternatives or choice.
In this place, there are no emotions that can speak of the "disappearing memories of itinerant rivers and lakes". Nobody can simply erase one from its memories. Nobody is going anywhere. They mingle about and return with a bleak smile. And actually, "the body does not know how to treat its guest in a dream"….just part of the days' hedonistic greed.
In the past three months, I have been woken by fright when the morning is still at its youth. I stare at my phone in search of words and phrases from the shores. I became unsure and unable to find the difference between dreams and consciousness. My biological clock has been thoroughly thrown into confusion. Facial expressions becoming horrid and hateful in gaunt without an appetite and emotionally fluctuated.
But the world has no mercy on my fluctuation. With responsibilities pushing weight on my shoulders, there is no room to be slack other than the brief moments in the waters. I was allowed to spread my arms in emancipation and wander the ripples. I was able to reach out without constraint under a condition where you can no longer feel the body's weight, the pressure's weights and the weights of burden. You can only feel the float like the clouds on the surface of the waters. In the fine skies and clear waters and thin clouds with pure winds.
The weather has cooled down, winds bring the cold and air-conditioners switched off. Streets covered with people in long sleeves. I waved goodbye to the days near the ocean. How beautiful it was. I can stop next to the ocean by myself for a whole day to read, write, drink, dream. It's lonely without solitude. With the choice of living alone, there are no regrets.
This year will be a little station where I change trains to different tracks of my life's journey. I wave goodbye to my second marriage that was beautiful but with confusion. Sometimes, being stopped by the tracks is not a bad thing. To walk in an no access zone with difficulties should be unforgiven.
We wave calm goodbyes without disappearing memories of itinerant rivers and lakes. Sharing the same pillows promises friendship for this lifetime. No matter whether the time were years or evenings…I emphasize affections but being confronted by reality, I can merely emphasize on meaning and not affection.
Therefore I say, this year was beautiful. You were beautiful for several years but who knew of such endings. The beauty in life is uncertainty and it is because you cannot simply recreate an identical experience. At the year's late evenings, there were times lingering between pillows, but things are not humane. Things move and planets orbit. In the deserted lengths, we've lost each other who are still hiding in the deserted lengths. But we've found ourselves.
I think I should be home. Home always offered a feeling where it is always blurred. This was probably because of fate encounters since childhood, living under a roof living family relations far too simple, family conditions far too turbulent and moving houses far too many times. Not only were they little streets turning into communities, eventually cities becoming nation states.
That's why, I have always deemed that home is where the heart is. It's not where the house is or the privileges of living environment.
Where's the heart?
At this time, the heart is just here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVeFu_lf_-0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2m8vMtChcE
Comments