When to leave the table

I think I am gradually following this rule: no matter what happens in my life, no complaints,no explains.
Suck everything up and keep moving forward.

My favorite writer Yishu always says, it doesn't matter much when you enter the game, and it doesn't matter whether you get good cards or not either; the most important thing is, you need to know when and how to leave the table, with the best gesture and the best style, and do not expect to get any paybacks and do not take anything with you when you choose to leave.

Yes.It is bloody true. And I am trying my best to be a mentally noble person.

sending her off in autumn

It was a cold cold night. I started to wear winter jacket.
She went on her trip to SA. All alone.

I was half worried, half jealous.

Some day, some day, I will also take a bag, to go to a place far far away. With or without a partner, it doesn't matter.

What an adventure!
Imagine all the people and all the experiences, it is worth going.

five stages of grief

"There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us, but there are always five :
Denial,
Anger,
Bargaining,
Depression,
Acceptance. "

0927

I also need to learn, how to say goodbye.
And, how to expect, the next meeting some day.

For the girls I have loved, I will keep them in my mind. Always. Deeply.

flower

(The image is the ginger orchid.- from the Internet)

Like Norbert Kraft's guitar, especially this piece of music: "Francisco Tarrega - Recuerdos de la Alhambra".


Those daisies in my vase are slowly fading away.

When I was a little younger, I would like to see only fresh flowers, all sorts of flowers,especially rambling roses and ginger orchid. White and fragrant flowers are always my favorite.

I hate those moments when rose petals shrink and turn sallow.

However, everything doesn't necessarily go the way I expected.

Now I am trying to learn, how to enjoy the moment when some beautiful things fade away.

Some pieces of memories

Suddenly thought of those days in Firenze. G was ironing the curtains and sheets for me in his big kitchen.

He lives in the center of the old town, 10 minutes' walking distance to the famous Domo.
His second floor was a whole big space, with the big French windows connecting the archaic balcony.

The sun set slowly. He put one of the discs with the soft music. The golden sunshine shined in his living room as if the sea blue fridge and the dark blue sofa was plated by the extremely fine gold powder.
His hair and his back, reflected the light. And his glasses.

The crude slate floor was quite glazed. Stepping on it with the bare feet, my toes felt a little chilled, like a cool breeze or a slightly cold water. But it was very clean that you can hardly find any dust on it.
It was not easy for a bachelor to make his apartment so neat.

He ironed the white cloths. The space was slowly suffused by the humid warm air.
I stood in his orange-floor balcony casually, watching bustling tourists downstairs flowed to the Domo not far away. That beautiful church, white, blue, red and green.


The sun shined half of the balcony. I looked at him through the window.
I felt warm in my heart, as if I was taken good care of.

Before the sun disappeared, the sky was painted by the transparent pink pansy brushes.

I think if I want a man some day, he has to enjoy the moment full of peace and silence with me, and take care of me, and make my lonely heart like a piece of ironed cloth, warm and neat.

I miss his balcony, and the feeling that I had there.

09.10 -2

Dear, life is short.
Life is long.

Who doesn't have all sorts of issues once in a while?

We will all survive.

09.10

Again, very depressed since the first moment I woke up.

I need to go out to save myself. Or stay?

I wanna be very selfish, just once, once like this.

dialect

Haven't used my dialect to talk with people for quite a few years, until recently I was reading one book from my favorite writer. She mentioned one saying that we used to separate different cousins because she was originally from my home town as well before she moved to Hongkong.
I suddenly remember my little cousin call my older cousin "big sister", I was ranked the second old kids among us, then i was called " small sister". Of course it sounds different to say it in my dialect.
Usually, dialects from the southeast sound soft and sweet. It adopted a lot of English words with the local pronunciation as well as its own distinct features. Southern girls are always considered to be as tender as water. Like the weather down there in the semi-tropical area, humid and warm.

If you hear people calling you with the dialect, the soft and mucous feeling would enwind your ear and head. The softest part of your heart is incidentally touched.

I laughed out loud when i read the small sentence.

Ah, I miss home. I think.

No matter how, it is still different with the slightest connection of the same blood.

09.05

Just finished one essential paragraph for the theoretical chapter that I have been thinking for over a month. No, no, even half a year.

I feel tremendously happy. =)

I am getting there.

Autumn/Z

I am exhausted.

A lot have happened recently. Something that I can say, something that I need to bury it in my mind.

Looking at the leaves outside of the window in the wind, I thought, ah, autumn is here.
The colors of red and yellow are like diseases, infecting the whole nature, eating the green away.

It has been raining the last few days. Cold rain.

I started to dream about my old friends again which I thought I have had put behind.
Something continues haunting me constantly.

My self-destructive side has been playing the major role in my life.
I need warm hugs, I need a kiss.

I miss a lot of people.

I am exhausted.