^^ Strawberries are SO melt-in-your-mouth SWEET this time of year! ^^
It has been over six months since I left NYC and moved to Ningbo, China.
My first entry was entitled, “I travel alone, in love.”
Yes, I love to be alone when traveling. I love to think and drink in the environment.
But I have realized what I believe is the greatest gift of spending time abroad:
Connections with new souls. Friendships with people you may never have met otherwise – and not just people from China – but all the foreigners here – people from the UK, South Africa, or even just a part of the United States I never would have visited.
This isn’t just a gift of traveling: it is a gift of life. I wrote here – in trying to justify my nights out that sometimes impede my word count produced the next morning:
“Writing will take me one place – but getting to love people and experience their souls in real time – there is nothing like this.”
I will write until I die – but I write to sanctify the human experience. No matter how far away from home I go, no matter how many different places I move, I will always find love. Not just love from the amorphous universe. Love from communion with other human beings, be they originally strangers or not. Traveling and moving as often as I have has shown me how many soulmates there are all over, waiting for us to discover.
This entry includes a poem, a section from the fiction piece, Peaceful, and photos.
The Night Outside is So Blissful it Will Make You Sick
Burning happy oblivion invades our punching blood
You slide a hot, drunk hand over mine
We watch China rise up in a glittering smog at 4 am
Neon light sky
Soft red-orange the
Glow of a flashlight through your childhood cheek
Suddenly my heart is breaking because I realize no amount of love will ever be complete the
Late night early mornings of
Drunken euphoria in your arms
Will only happen once
And then there will be forever to
How do I succeed in making every single Moment last for always by my side?
They hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences for four hours. Just walking and, “You want to eat here?” or, “I think its’ this way.”
On the way back to the station, people shoved and shouted – the last train. Ann wore two scarves. Her toes were numb. Her peripheral vision was cut off by her hood. She felt encased. Whenever she lifted her eyes, she searched the gold caterpillar wall for the back of his black windbreaker with his hands shoved in the pockets.
A warmth bloomed inside her. Peace? They didn’t need to speak. Every so often he’d turn and his face would split open into an easy, stupid smile. She would flood with warmth. By the time they reached the train car, it didn’t matter if she got a seat or not. As long as Zao stood by, everything was quiet – even as people around them barked curt Beijing “arr” syllables and fought over the seats.
Zao blinked hard – a gesture – “should I get us a seat?” Ann gently motioned, “it’s all right”. The train jolted & shook. Ann sank to the floor right where they were standing. Zao slid beside her. The lights were dim and red in the hallway. Slow heat tingled as it crept back into their toes.
Ann placed her head on his shoulder. Zao sat still. Opened his palm. She slipped her hand into his. The rumble of the train settled into a calm titter.