I feel like you can spend a lifetime drawing pictures for every day,b ut the only one that would ever really matter is the one you intended solely fo rourself, to be kept hidden behind a drawer and gazed at secretly over the years.
Before I leave here, I'd like to paint one good poem in the classical style, vertically and swift with personality. I'll be sure to mention 友谊 because that is a valuable lesson I have been learning here. I still feel myself drawn back to Hong Kong, not even just for family but for the survivors left at KYP, for the language, for the heat. We make so much ado about love, happiness, freedom, purpose. But those are checklists, and with or without them we tend to go on living anyway. So why not live somewhere comfortable and fresh with memories, where there is music and bluntness in the language, where simply walking down the street can carry with it a full sense of expression.
What is the meaning or purpose of life? Years ago, sitting with our legs over the water at an Oakland park, Pierre told me it's expression. Too many people have told me it's God. My roommate here, before he moved out, said family. Michelle in Hong Kong said it's about feeling satisfied with where you are and what your'e doing. My language partner said it's to not have regrets. Pa Hua told me it's about being happy and letting others be happy. At the end of one drunken night in Shanghai, I asked everyone for their answer in one word before falling asleep. Heather said contribution. Eric's was advancement. Alex said masturbation. I said understanding.
And then the sun rises and we all have places to be. It is the bravest thing in the world for all of us to wake up in the mornings and move with some semblance of purpose before our questions have even begun to be answered.
有空油画, 有事有心, 有友有意。自由诗没有语言, 是生活的真工作。
你心里的内容有什么问题?
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