Let me tell you about somewhere outside of where you are used to. The time clash between the night and the day, about the time of dawn in Taipei. the dawn is such a vulnerable time.
A vulnerable time that speaks
In the streets of Taipei there are blooming pink flowers, quiet houses that cuddle the sleeping bodies and river alike sky that has birds swimming in it.
At the time of dawn, the same street that will choke on hundreds of people is a lost chamber instead. You could hear the silence and the people waking up to start another day.
How is life there, where you are? Where I was once? Where I was never once?
There is a soft breeze here and the city smells of hard work, lost dreams, and boxed emotions. It has a variety of smells. Not the unpleasant ones but of nostalgias.
I took a walk at 4 AM and saw a woman, not only saw but she cooked for me. She was up, working, cooking and cleaning. There was a person in her belly I assumed. An obvious one, a pregnant woman.
I wondered how come a pregnant woman is working with the smell of gas and hot steam at 4 AM here and somewhere else the situation is quite the opposite.
She brought me a chair to sit on. With my hands moving back and forth, I said: “No no, you sit”. I wanted to ask her “Why?”. But I think I knew the answer.
She cares for her growing human in her belly more than anything and probably that is why she is working.
Everywhere I go they are working. Working to become better, to become less to make someone else feel bigger, for someone, for always someone, in the field, out the cities, in the heart, through the mud, in the mind, out of hometowns, in the houses, behind doors, shut doors through key cracks crawling out the norms, inside the barriers of pathetic powers and plays. Working and fighting standing like a statue, strong and firm.
Please, woman. Quit the play.
I often think woman can be described as having two sides; parallel world I would say. Like this one particular café here in Taipei that is hidden between the narrow alleys and buildings. It is located right across another cafe. The two cafes look like the same cafe in two different forms. As if they were copied and duplicated into two separate realities.
The one is messy. Posters, unfit statues, broken walls, a cracked floor that has buzzing tv and empty cd’s, human-feet shaped ashtrays, unfinished paintings, old sofas, dusty albums. It is Just Perfect!.
The right across, the other one is perfectly put together, everything is where it is supposed to be. Cute and new.
I do not think I will ever go to the second cafe. The cute and the new cafe. It feels Fake and sad.
like a woman who lost herself.