On The Road

Dying is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I’ve a call.

— Sylvia Plath

Sunday morning, Shenyang, China

I came to a Starbucks near the hotel for some inspiration. With a grant Capuchino in hand, I was suddenly crowded by noises from people’s talks just like how the hot summer wind jump to my face when I go outdoor. It seems dozens of small parties are going on here. Groups and groups of people talk loudly and “passionately”.

Apparently Starbucks is not just a place for business people or people who seek quietness for reading here in China. Maybe because this one is located in the shopping center.People come there for rests and at the same time they don’t forget to carry on “whole-world-listen-to-me-please” conversations.

Certainly I’m not satisfied with the current situation I’m in now, since I expected a quieter place for writing. But there’re no reasons for me to complain. If I view this from another angle, stepping back as an onlooker, I see interesting scenes or stories although some can be a bit creepy.

There are two girls bringing along McDonald’s hamburgers.

A man is looking at himself in the reflection on his cell-phone.

On my right side, there is a woman leaning on the chair back with her kid aside. She’s pretty concentrated on reading this magazine-Males’ Study.

The frowning guy facing to me is reading a book with now-and-then notes taking.

The man on the left is taking a nap with three empty cups on his table, and an opened book named “Meeting an uncertain self”.

A young couple are being speechless. The girl is flipping over a fashion magazine never giving the guy a gaze. The guy is staring forwards, playing with his phone in hand.

I don’t know what they can find in the coffees. For the same flavour type, people taste differently. Although there’s a company drinking coffee with you now, he or she can never tell what feelings the coffee makes in you.

What you drink is coffee, what you swallow might be gloom. If life is a cup of coffee, how much affection can it hold?

People come here to seek coffee or some answer on the bottom of the cup, or just a place to hide themselves?

I couldn’t explain why when I look at people, I see loneliness. I’m like a stander-by observing different plays on a bridge pretending I’m an outsider. But in fact I am probably some role in others’ eyes at the same time. If I couldn’t find a good coffee partner, I’d rather play a monodrama…

Speaking of this, my coffee has gone cold. My playlist came to Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars.

“We’ll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don’t need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life

Let’s waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
…”

Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol

I’m so happy to have my journal pages published on Matador Network- the biggest independent travel magzine online.

It’s sketch+notes from my southwestern trip in May.Read it here. I wish I could have better English writing,I mean, to write like a writer.

- Séraphine，2008

So lightly,
I fall
Like a feather
In the pale autumn wind
Exiling myself in rustling

—Robin
13/07/2010

The Night

The night falls

The gloom rises

Far into the memories

You heard my vows.

Tears ain’t fill the loss

Only grieve all my faults

If, if, of…

I wasn’t away that long.

—Robin

14/06/2010

500 Days of Summer.

The Underpass

To reach the other side of the road
I have to go through the underpass

Its cloak of darkness extends
With the weak light flashing,
shall I move towards the further blackness

The steps might be in vain
The creeds are crowded out of my brain
No one knows how the drama goes
On the other side of the domain

It makes me so fear
But I can’t let the thought disappear
or my heart not being sincere

Any alternative will be a smear
So call me a warrior
with a faith to which I adhere

Let the belief be my spear
Let my blood be the souvenir
to reach the land with a glory win

–Robin
18/06/2010 10:45AM

Did two drawings of my cousin this afternoon. Just felt she looked funny in this fat pink PJ.

What about me? Feeling shit coming back from the project for holiday knowing there’s still much work undone. And couldn’t feel more shit knowing I’m booked onto another project in March for a whole month. Shit!

One of my drawings of Al before he left back to UK. I’ve been involved on a project since. Feeling really exhausted and stressed.