feel like dancing a waltz.

六月。

又一年六月。夏天，你和我。

the last book.

I want it to be the last book I read before departure. 

It is, you know, in many sense too heavy for me to carry abroad. But I'll bring One Hundred Years of Solitude with me and keep it close so that I could always revisit the little goldfishes, the fluttering yellow butterflies, the melancholic whores and the feverish town of Macondo wherever I go. 

Speaking of Macondo, my imagination of it comes very close to Trinidad in Cuba, which I'm heading to in a few weeks' time. The first instant I saw its pictures online I was certain the town resembled somewhere I knew. And it's Macondo, unmistakably Macondo, which is like a secret hometown of mine that never existed in time.

regret.

“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.” 

― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez
One Hundred Years of Solitude.

a lost dream redeemed.

It was an ordinary summer's night when subtropical heat was overabundant and calmness insufficient. When morning came there was nothing she could do to shake off the dreams she had overnight. Some dreams slipped away, some didn't. And these were the ones that remained. 

Whether she had dreamed of him or it was actually he who had sleepwalked into her subconsciousness she did not know. It troubled her all the same because she was a dreamer who knew too well that dreams were a dangerous signal, in extreme circumstances an irrevocable prophecy. They foresaw things that were invisible.

She had three dreams.

In the first one he kissed her.

The second one came along not as a sequel but a distracted stream of time that wiped itself out. The second dream was so unimportant that the instant it came into being it was consumed by absolute forgetfulness.

Her conscious self from the first dream was well-preserved in the third one. It was as if she had survived the distance of a lifetime and had eventually retrieved her lost self. But it was not enough. It was a lost dream that she had to retrieve, a dream in which they both existed.

It was wonderful how a dream could allow a setting, a consciousness, and above all a feeling with such complexity. She was sleeping, her mind at rest, but in fact she was adrift in a realm of unbridled mental wilderness (if not madness) which rendered everything restless (if not reckless).

She kept walking and walking around the neighbourhood to look for him. The streets were steep and narrow and the buildings looked like blocks of torn paper with stains that stayed forever. She didn't recognise the place but somehow she understood it was the east side of the island. On her left hand side she saw the harbour that separated thousands of lovers. 

And there he was.

yellow raincoats.

they were to meet at the cinema when it rained. people passed them by like shadows, with faces that she didn't remember. in fact she didn't remember anything except the yellow raincoats which must have come all the way from her childhood, now a piece of memory as estranged as a midsummer hallucination. 

she had been waiting for him. as soon as he arrived he brought the rain, rain that commenced as drizzles as light as dreams, and intensified whenever she looked at him, until water permeated into her skin and gave her a false sensation of love. 

everything faded away with the first ray of morning light that traveled through her window and woke her up. almost everything, except the brightness of the yellow raincoats, the touch of the rain on her skin and the residues of his face.

honestly.

maybe i hang around here
a little more than i should

we both know i got somewhere else to go

but i got something to tell you
that i never thought i would

but i believe you really ought to know.