summer of 2002 is spent in beijing

how i loved beijing, how i thought about standing on that bridge and just breath, existence is all i need when i'm standing there..just existence, a moment of silence would remind me of the juxtaposition of my existence when i'm not in beijing, it's about being ripped out of a mother's body before becoming anything at all, being exposed to an alien world

though he said

"i could never understand why you like beijing so much"

of course he can't.. he was there every summer

he didn't understand me, he wasn't there when i was, beijing would only understand

the air smelled like dust...an atmosphere of brown, hot, dust 

my beijing

it's so young, and when two young things can't grow together, they grow apart, beijing looked at me strange in the eye... i look at beijing, but it is so old, its youth only feeds on the decay of its age.

my youth doesn't feed on the decay of its age

i look back at beijing strange in the eye

this isn't my beijing

but the bridge is still there..i stood on that bridge, like in my dreams i did.. 

existence

my existence is existence without context, i do not belong anywhere, not even beijing, the bridge is just a movie playing, silent without a sound, i grabbed on to the fence, to touch silence... the man beside me looked at me strange, judged me, he watched me as a foreign movie, also without a sound.. he belonged to beijing

 it isn't my mother, i'm not a premature fetus, i'm a grown body out of context  

a soul misplaced into space, vast empty space, time is the movie i'm watching, a movie can't hurt me..it can't cure me either..

i just need something i can touch

  "It doesn't hurt to open up more, I can be your punching bag when i'm not busy"

punching bag

fall of 2002 is spent in toronto