Category Archives: Natalie Nicole Lau

A Good Run

speaking with flowers

Our existence is but a vapour in the wind,

celebrate it and let it’s beauty permeate.

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technology ruins adventure.

“Whatever happened to the good ol’ days?”

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Choices, choices, decisions, decisions…

“And that has made all the difference.”

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inevitable.

Brad Corrigan

“And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking.
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you’re older.
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.”

“time,” Pink Floyd

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I love being a fool, if being a fool means being in this city

WTT_5118

When I was younger,
I would look up to the brilliantly illuminated buildings
worn out by years of labor…

…then a droplet of dirty water from an old air conditioner would hit my eye.
Ouch.

Hong Kong, this is why I love you.

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raft.

I exhale, my breath adding moisture to the damp air.Where am I going? Where will the currents take me? Where will my future take me? I lean over the edge of my wooden raft, my home, my life support, and see an unfamiliar face imitate my every move.

Who is she? And how has she found me stranded amidst the vast plane of water?

Was I not alone?

She turns away from me, her eyes searching for something greater. I follow the direction of her gaze. Alas! In the distance there is land! How long have I longed for sturdy ground to stand on? For something stable to rest upon! For something firm I can assure myself in. I reach for what I can, a plank of wood, the image of a success, the torn and weary pages of Pride and Prejudice, anything that might pull me steadily through the water. I rhythmically row through the rolling waves. Forcing my way forward, forking through the forceful forming currents. Pushing past my doubts, persevering through my pain, progressing forward?

No, I am right where I started with nothing more than aching throbs in my arms.

I look behind me and see that the sun has already traveled more than three-quarters of its journey through the southern sky; I am almost out of time. One last time, I try to fight the mercurial waters, the unpredictable essay prompts, the ever-changing expectations, but the horizon pulls me in, away from the land I longed for. I curse. Not at the horizon, who could blame it in all its splendor and at the peak of its beauty? I curse at myself, at my inability to progress— physically, mentally, and spiritually. The sun sprints behind the mountains and moves forward, forgetting me, and I am left in the dark without a moon. I peek again over my wooden raft and find no faces— I am alone.

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