The noise from the street perfumes the atmosphere of the second floor. We can hear, but not see the chorus of voices, engines, and car horns. The sky is Hue knows how to decorate the scenes below. If I could paint this noise I would pair it grey, an evolving grey, something moving between white and black, but never committing to either one. The paint would not be mixed well, it would be streaky, the color inconsistent with every stroke of the brush.
Another day cloaked in rain and mist. I spent the morning and early afternoon in the grey-white light of my hotel room. On the bed sheets, pacing around the room, as typical of me. Not being productive. I no longer consider it retreating. I am here. I am present. But I am also me. Me the body. Me the dream.
-Friday , Jan. 2, 2015, Sweet Kingdom, Hue, 2:31 pm
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