Home and Departure.

Stumbled upon Don Mak's illustrative art. One of the paintings overlooking the Victoria Harbor made one nostalgic. The sun is about to set, a warm orange wraps around purpleish skyscrappers. Humidity blurs delineation of lines. Watercolor fits well with Guangdong's climate, just as how I remembered.

from https://www.donmak.co/Hong-Kong-A-Z

I haven't been back home for two years and six months. Last time, when my grandma asked me when she could see me again, I promised one year. But as I walked out her apartment door and headed towards the elevator, I knew distance only lengthens from that point on. It never shortens. My promises were useless.

At the airport when I said goodbye to my parents, I cried despite many practices and being 25. It was my tenth year away from home and maybe the 25th time being in that situation. Stepping through security was the most difficult. One just sees figures being blocked by manufactured glasses. Forced abberation.

So I had to turn my head away to pretend it was a conscious choice. How many more goodbyes? I ask myself everytime.

It's interesting how one's life consists of fragmented lines. No line is long enough to accompany until death. Sometimes they become parallel and sometimes they intersect. Sometimes they layer on top then digress. Perhaps random walks shouldn't be assigned with emotions.