So on this ambitious night, I'm sitting on my living room floor, watching Sex and the City, and occasionally dipping my right pinky into a jar of honey (I ran out of apples).
Cheun-duk Pi, a Korean poet, described May as a fresh twenty-one year old's face right after being washed with cold water. I think about him on some mornings washing my face, and I feel like the month of May (and I blush).
And I have a sudden urge to drive to the beach and write in the sand
得了愛情痛苦 (I have gained, the pain of affection)
失了愛情痛苦 (I have given up, the pain of affection),
lines from a poem by a Chinese poet who died very young. But I will drive back, still young and alive.