I wrote a postcard for myself a few days ago and received it in the mail today.
April 14, 2016
Sunny spring day in Seattle, walking downtown to the waterfront.
Golden hour at Pike Place Market. Colorful bunches of tulips, $10 per dozen. My favorites are the ones in shades of coral and the lightest pink.
A used bookstore, found an old copy of Persuasion with a blank postcard inside. In front, it says "This Day Will Never Happen Again." Of course, I had to buy it, nevermind that I already have 2 copies of this book at home.
Bus ride during rush hour, the sun shining so brightly, headphones on my ears, listening to a song in a language I don't understand. Well, I can pick out some words and their meaning - like "sarang", means love.
Two poems by Anna Ahkmatova, about reading Hamlet and another one about Pushkin.
It is indeed a special day. (Worth the last "Forever" stamp I carry inside my wallet.)
Here is a poem by Franz Wright that I've been thinking about for awhile now. I had just learned about his passing and it hit me really hard because his poetry was a huge part of my life at some point in time. I memorized some lines of this poem by heart, the ending is absolutely perfect.
The all-night convenience store's empty
and no one is behind the counter.
You open and shut the glass door a few times
causing a bell to go off,
but no one appears. You only came
to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe
a copy of yesterday's newspaper --
finally you take one and leave
thirty-five cents in its place.
It is freezing, but it is a good thing
to step outside again:
you can feel less alone in the night,
with lights on here and there
between the dark buildings and trees.
Your own among them, somewhere.
There must be thousands of people
in this city who are dying
to welcome you into their small bolted rooms,
to sit you down and tell you
what has happened to their lives.
And the night smells like snow.
Walking home for a moment
you almost believe you could start again.
And an intense love rushes to your heart,
and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable.
— Franz Wright, from God's Silence
Happy National Poetry Month, my friends.
It's so nice to be back here.
It has been exactly one year since my last post. I keep trying to decide what to do with this little space and in the end I realized that I do still want to keep it for now. And so I begin again.
Late autumn, I moved to Seattle. Life here is beautiful in so many unexpected ways. There is rain, of course, and sometimes it is so intense I forget how it was to live without it.
Then there are those days when I walk outside and I am stunned by the beauty surrounding me. The sun coming up brightly after days of heavy rain. Flowering trees that look like they belong in some fairytale. Walking through a moss-covered forest. Snowcapped mountains in the distance. How the sky and the water constantly changes with the light.
I am trying to capture all these in whatever way I can. A photograph, a poem, a couple of phrases in my grid-lined notebook. But most of the time, I just end of staring at the vast sky.
I guess that is one of the lessons I am learning now. To be okay with not doing anything. To let go of that need to document everything. To just be.
West Seattle after sunset, 3/17/16
Photos taken by me