fairly tales

my destination is as clear as the focus of my camera.

the stories in my head are misleading blurs of light
and i strive in that direction; i move towards the end
of the tunnel that seems to shroud my wishes, dreams
and all kinds of wonderful pretends.

…

oh syracuse,

once upon a time, this girl loved a boy.

he sat in front of her in one class.
sat behind her in another.
and she loved him from faraway,
from up close,
and she kept loving him,
in those distant memories, never
once asking him his name
and when he married,
she was happy
because

her heart never broke once

chess pieces

Let’s paint the picture of the perfect place
They got it better than what anyone’s told you
There be the king of hearts and you’re the queen of spades
And we’ll fight for you like we were your soldier
I know we got it good, but they got it made
And the grass is getting greener each day
I know things are looking up, but soon they’ll take us down
Before anybody’s knowing our name

– all the right moves, one republic

The city of eight hundred fifty two.

We,
rebuild it or cover it,
change it or redefine it,

but do little to forget it.

quickly the bamboo

“Do you know what’s so amazing about Hong Kong architecture?”

This is my cousin, the hard working architect. Lucky that: the recession didn’t affect his job; UC Berkley is on his diploma; he was raised right and raised well; life works out just by working through.

Unlucky that: He is an architect.
Yet lucky again, he’s in Hong Kong, the cities of cities.

“You probably won’t find it anywhere else. Up and down in a single day like that. ‘Bahm-bahm-bahm, gum zhou hei zho!’ (Bam-bam-bam, built just like that!)” His hands move higher and higher like a succession of fists, illusions of a foundation, imaginary duplications. “They’re so fast, you’ll never see anything like it. One day it’s there, the next day it isn’t. The builders are extremely talented.”

History here is built just like that.
Danger is not a warning to be careful.
Danger is a warning: It’s going to disappear.

“One day it’s there, the next day it isn’t.
The builders are extremely talented.”

Remember.

hypnotizing alice

Romantic, gothic dresses from the Victorian Era; like a Valentino wedding dress yellowed with age, the dress fitted like a corset around the perfect mannequin. Eyes wound around and around the twirls and contours of the dress; despite the intricate details and patterns, my eyes followed the spiral, fulfilling the perfect silhouette. The most beautiful dress, that I would never wear, of imagination stood in the closed store. A dress meant to be locked in time, perfectly untouched. Never opened like Pandora’s Box. 

The store’s walls are a maroon red. The ceiling, a tapered black cloth that limps loosely as dangling masks decorate the fixture in the most eerie manner. Oil brushes, palettes and sketches are plastered to the wall, hanging amongst dark nature. Always closed, the only notice is a post-it with a phone number:

2711 —-

…

The designer is everything you would imagine him to be; only he is not a she. The long, shaggy and unwashed hair that fell over the large eyes held up by dark eye circles is only the beginning. Black clothing, secluded corner of the store, and calmly sketching away as if he’s only here because of extra time. The only thing you never imagined him to be was funny, talkative and sociable. You would never speak first, but the rare occasion that the locked wonderland is now open, your mouth moves non-stop. 

Looking up, you see the delicate light fixture. Bear, rabbit, fox and a mannequin’s hand, a group of masks that have no correlation is the perfect design. Your finger poises before letting the shutter snap, and you swear, as you take the photo, the fox’s face moves. No doubt –

You are in a dark wonderland.

 

 

click for the story behind the story:
inspired by a store in TST and the artist 

pattern in/sight

Photographs pattern themselves like yellow wallpaper.                                                     There’s something underneath, something crawling and I’m                                           searching until I become what I’m looking for;                                                                       madness has found me first.

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