Thirsty

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Period is but a dot.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Edmond Chen

The first time I met Edmond Chen, he was sitting on a box of something. It said something in Chinese. Sorry to say, I can't read Chinese, and I certainly couldn't at the time either. He was devouring an apple like a hungry stray kid, the juice dripping all over his lips. Those big, big bites sounded like a sword fight in the crisp snow. He was a small man, but looked strong, like an old tree. The wrinkles on his face were perfectly symmetrical. I don't usually notice these things, but maybe wrinkles aren't supposed to be symmetrical and we're all used to seeing awry wrinkles. Or maybe it was simply the glare of his face. With every apple bite, those glimmering Nazca Lines reshuffled their geometry like rrrusshh, rrrusshh, fountain firework. Edmond Chen didn't need no holy aureola to radiate, because I knew from that very first moment: this man is special. From a distance, he looked like any other middle-aged Chinese trucker to come through town. Only he was different, he was a mountain of charisma. He smiled like the Mona Lisa would have wanted to smile, and he spoke solely through his squinting little eyes. Edmond Chen never said a word, he didn't need to. He had a straight line to soulworld, yours, mine, your great aunt's, that guy that crossed the street this morning, everyone's. I don't think I've ever seen him mad. Mad of joy, oh yes! Whenever he was happy, he would summon all the humans around him by simply clapping his hands and slapping his knees, elbows, feet, forehead, chest, you name it. The man was an almost human drum kit. Every slap, every hit would thunder throughout the entire town, animals would run away and hide, while people would gather around to stand in awe and laugh deliriously, their teeth sparkling in the sun. Rocks would come crushing down and paint would come off walls, kids would start dancing like madmen and pregnant women would suddenly go into labor, rain clouds would disperse and our hearts would love love love. Edmond Chen was pure ecstasy, he was the Dragon and the Angel alike, he was a dear friend.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Things change


Everybody wore hats back then.
Like my granddad still does, when he's not taking care of my grandmother.
He'll be wearing his hat a lot more soon.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Awaiting His Majesty

- Sint-Pietersplein, Gent
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I am sorry

I am a commitment phobic, a little boy that sleeps with a teddy bear and pulls the sheets all over his head. To escape towards the stars seeping through the fabric, far far away. To bathe in the Pleiades, with the pleiades. To forever close the eyes and see the stars, seeping through the skin, so so close. Like the stranger's lips, far away and yet so close. I am a commitment phobic and I have hurt so many so as not to get hurt.

It's time for me to go back, to find myself through the rubble of broken hearts - bread crumbs, back to when I really was a little boy that slept with a teddy bear and pulled the sheets all over his head.

I need to know where this comes from.
Maybe that is what the Breadcrumb Crater is all about.