Stepped outside of the apartment this morning to the sound of traffic (a truck backing up for what felt like 10 minutes), smell of pollution, and a breeze. It was early, and people were up and at it.
It reminded me of waking up early in Taiwan to get coffee and breakfast at Yong He. Fleet of motorcycles weaving between lanes. Stink of sewage every one and a half blocks. Small alleys with rusted bicycles leaning against brick walls. This place functioned as a special spot to be still and acquire a cursory feel for life there. It is easier to wonder about the life of others than to take a look at my own.
I think about this scene in Sound of Metal, where Joe tells Ruben about locating stillness, a state of mind he named the kingdom of heaven, a place that would never abandon him. And the last time I remember being still?
It was the morning after the news of ATL. I woke up, set my feet on the carpet. Sun was peeking through the blinds. And I asked myself — “if society does not want us here, where would they have us go? There is nowhere to go.”
The experience of morning in Taiwan also had me wondering about the alternate path — what would life be like had my parents never moved to the states? (Carol says we would be weird people with fucked up relationships with members of our extended family. I’m sure of that.)