Sometimes after a burst of rain, the aroma hovering in the air is a bit brackish, like the deltas of some far flung place. Sometimes because of a bowl of tasty noodles, sometimes because of a song whose name escapes you, and sometimes because it is as if it's a dream scene, we suddenly stay put, unable to move. It is all because our minds are stuck in that moment of remembrance, our memories left following unhindered into the vast reaches of the present. We sigh, smile, cry, just desperately wanting to capture the time of what was. Desiring to use our skin once more to reach back and feel again, to use the pores to breathe the air.

The memories are far too ingrained in the skin to return once more.

All related to the mind and emotions, are the majestic feelings of a sensitive soul. Rain washing the streets, walls covered with climbing plants, and the aircraft out of the window of the sky, those early morning mists, sadness and pride, all of the feelings a photograph tries to express. This too is but a growing record of the rapid lose of time. We almost certainly forgot those vague fragments of the original that are still clearly there. They are still clearly there.

Remember the passage of time, remember the day when I was standing on the roof, air moisture, wind, tightening the skin of perception.

The slits of light cutting through the trees, appeared as time capsules isolated into themselves.
Each stream of light caring with it, all the dust of the past, all aimlessly adrift in a world not unlike our own.

How many lives were lived, and now consist of a mere transparent glim in my eye?
So too is my world, it is but a glim in the eye of another.

Restless wandering leads me through the streets
I know not what I am looking for, if in fact I am looking at all.
I can only understand the longing for something more,
bigger than what I have now.

I am sure I won't find it today,
yet my head can't rest until my muscles ache,
my head dips low
and my legs collapse under me.

With a black pencil, I draw a silent drama, to hold you against the light in the cinema.

I sing hoarse songs there in a corner, just for you even when it gets louder.

A flat-top forest stretches far in embroidered mist,

A cluster of mountains cool is tinged with heartbreak blue.

In vain her anxious thought for half a lifetime,

For like a disturbing dream at dead of night,

Like the thunderous collapse of a great mansion,

Or the flickering of a lamp that gutters out,

Mirth is suddenly changed to sorrow.

I sit beside the window every evening,
looking at gorgeous sunshine, or amazingly heavy rain.
The world wipes out its superficiality, and shows the essence of the beauty.
Unknown songs echo in the air, empty hugs and hand holding regardless of sex.
And everything is just blurry.

The city is crowded with people and vehicles.
skyscrapers seem as though they reach the clouds.
Engine sounds destroy beautiful dreams.
Neon lights reflect into eyes, and brighten the city.
Roads and air in this materialistic world, dust can't cover the desolation.
Even if everything seems ostentatiously prosperous.

Small towns and big cities.
They stare at each other with distance, and lost in thoughts.
The quiet, the pleasure.
The prosperity, the isolation.
I wander around between small towns and big cities,
a crazy dream is hidden in my heart.
There is an empty city that belongs to me.
No people, no colors.
Some sad emotions, and loneliness that leads to perfection.
But it is just a dream,
kind of far away from mediocre me.