That Yonder World

This conversation comes spontaneously, with an old friend Tao: a filmmaker.

Suddenly thought in the end of 2019, I had a talk with a woman named mimi. 

She was also a filmmaker.  

At the time she had a deck of photographs matching with poetry texts , and she told me she wanted to make "PoetryTarot" decks.

We played around. 

I asked a question:

Then I picked:

We discussed what this could mean. But none of us were really sure. 

As time goes by, from where I am in the 3D world, I can see now what it can possibly mean. 

Keep going keep going 

Find the forest of your heart

As if no return 

Bind farewell without ends  

Hold that flame 

  (photograph 2024.01.20.)

Ps:  I used to write a lot. Everywhere I lived.

I remember going to the second hand bookstore & squeezed my body into the tiny spot looking for books to buy to read, under a dim yellow light. That was like the old-world charm. Poetic and romantic. 

I read also tons since I was little.

My parents got divorced very early and I had a long period only I was at home alone. 

At first scared, then came to love it.

That seemingly dark place, like a cocoon, was the place that butterfly was made of. 

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Some years ago an UK curator contacted me, asking me if he could exhibit some of my text-visual-poetry works. 

I was excited, then showed him some of my notebooks. 

He liked it right away. 

I was surprised, as those scribbles doodles were like a mystery, sometimes even to the author herself years after. 

Unrecognizable fasthand seems to come from another world.

Mixtures of diary, performance ideas, costume drawings, poetry, street encounters etc. 

The curator wanted to exhibit them all!

Unfortunately it didn't work out. 

Pages went silently like a nice country lady sewing old socks, only the crackling sounds of fire could be heard on such a winter's day

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On the rebirthing days.

Without planning, writings and reading came back to me.

It's fluid again. 

Lots and lots and lots and oh so many ideas 

and things and this and that.

Like an ocean.

I am a sea. 

Yes.

I am a sea again. 

Siren of the backroads.