Sundown in the city. Thousands of motorbikes and cars are growling. Somewhere else people are clicking to switch computers off, “clack”, “beep” office doors are getting closed, heels walking on the corridors click-clack. The city moans incessantly brmmmm vroooommmm.
Listen to what lurks and hides underneath all the mechanical groans and high-pitched traffic horns. There were as if some beast living, breathing, grunting. And we, we are none but particles, molecules, atoms that make its skin and flesh. We run in circles, in rush and flush. We’ve got to never stop running, so we’ll keep it alive. We have become a part of it and been ossified. Our free wills have eventually succumbed. Without us knowing
– written in the park at the heart of Saigon
days gathering random scribblings from old notebooks
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