Hong Kong

The wave from HK to Sydney

I need to catch this flight today. I need to hit that sweet spot. Like that spot on the crest of a wave, it will either pull you with it or leave you in its wake. My flight to Beijing was not for me. I couldn't get back there and that's okay. But the feeling is that of being left behind by the wave. I missed it. I will not miss the next one. I am ready to come home and my home is ready for me. I will catch the next wave, I will let it take me. I am no longer scared of letting my body go. I will get on the plane and let it carry me home. Into the arms of my love, on into my studio and my work. Into the 2014. I am going to miss you, HK and Taiwan, but I think the wave has the power to carry me back. I feel like I could ride this one for a long time.

Meat Cleaver Mountain


I am looking at the mountain away over the balcony. It doesn't look like a meat cleaver. It acts like one - split and wedged into the slopes and villages. Today it is a mass of prisms gathering clumsily. Though not nearly as amateurish as my splintered mess. Yesterday it was lines which fell and alighted on my railing. Shifting shape and tone.

And every time I look up it is a new ground. The longer I spend here - sitting, sitting, sitting - the more it changes before my lowered head. I spend too much time crunched and crinkled. My neck and my brow growing creased. Look up. Look up! It's changed. The soil is gold! Did you see that? Wait, no, it's grey, those trees are grey and the folds go deep and dark. The mountain is never the same as the day moves.

Though, of course, it is. It will be the same forever. I am the one who is leaving. And I'm not taking a single thing with me. I wouldn't dare. It will stay the same and changing under a silted sky. I'll go back to my acid blue and never fully understand.

Balcony studio