Roam, roam around

The sign was eye-catching. It is red and it was right in the afternoon sunlight leaking through the tree leaves. It just couldn’t be ignored. So I stopped to read it: Real Living at home. And I thought, “real living? Then there must be fake living? What is real living? What is fake living? Who has a real living? And who has not? Does a home gurantee a real living? Maybe, because it gives you a sense of belonging and a sense of being settled? For some people, maybe. Does homelessness makes one’s living fake? But one may still feel homeless even if he/she has a home, a so called home …” So my mind jumped and jumped and I remembered a French movie director who once said, ” you say hello to your neighbors, but you belong somewhere eles.”

I thought as I walked and soon I got to that house, No. 46, which has aroused my curiosity ever since I saw it the first time. No one lives there. Yet someone did live there. The window, the door, the front door porch, and the dust all tell a story about this house. A story yet to be discovered. I wanted to go in and explore, like Alice exploring the Wonderland. And I like to think the barely visible reflection of mine in the window is the ghost who once lived there and still haunts it.

No, this is not a picture of a hand, but a story about a hand, a woman’s hand in a movie directed by Wong Kai Wai, a Hong Kong director enjoying international fame. This short movie was my saturday night leisure. I watched it with my tiny laptop. It has a stunning beginning and a surprising ending. It has good photography with good light and composition. And good acting by Gong Li.

Terry McVey’s eyes tailed me as I neared The Smiling Skull, then walked past him.

“You should come inside,” he said.

“Well, I am not really a bar person. And I am going to a class.” I turned around.

“It is fun here.”

“Maybe. What do you like about it?” I asked.

“They serve beer. I frequent this bar.”

“Well, many places serve beer. What’s so special about The Smiling Skull?”

“There are a lot of cute girls. It is fun.”

“Ah, that’s why! Girls.” I laughed, then added, “do you mind if I take a few pictures of you? Behind the skull on the window?”

“My pleasure!”

Terry McVey walked inside the bar and put his face against the skull. When I gestured “O.K, I am done,” he suddenly rolled up his T-shirt and pressed his chest against the skull, with his nipples in the skull’s eyesockets.

“You know, next time you should ask a girl to do this,” McVey said.

Twilight from my kitchen window. It is said old and cheap places usually have good light. It may be true.

Memorial Day. I saw two men sitting in front of The Smiling Skull, with a flag between them and smiling skulls above them. I stopped to ask if I could take their pictures. They gave their consent with smiles.

The clouds were heavy with the coming storm. Lightnings sparkled and thunders rolled. People who had been swimming, sunbathing, or simply walking on the beach began to rush towards their cars,and they left the park. Not all the people, though. Four youths stayed and they were making a fire near a pavilion.

The rain is coming, why make the fire? I asked.

That’s why we are making the fire! They laughed.

And a young man, half naked, lay down and began to blow hard into the oven. The flames rose little by little and finally they were dancing almost wildly under the heavy sky.

Raindrops began to fall. The flames were still dancing.

Oh, come on, before the storm hits hard! A girl said excitedly and they all went out to the fire, each with a marshmallow ball. More rain drops fell. They ran back to the pavilion with their barbecued marshmallow.

Mm, tastes sooo good! They all said.

I smiled. Isn’t it nice to be young and fearless?

Just a door, but a door framed by light and shadows. Also a door I walk past many times at Washington Street, Athens, OH.

It is getting hot. The sun outside the window glared so that I didn’t want to step out and simply stayed home, cleaning up and finishing THE GRAPES OF WRATH. [A great book. When I got to the last page where Rose of Sharon breast fed a man dying of hunger , I cried badly.] Anyway, When the sun reached a soup cup on my heater, I had my dinner, then walked towards the lab. The party kids have gone for the Memorial Day weekend and it is very quiet on the campus, particularly so during sunset.

How funny! Most of my photo journals are done on my way to and from school. This year I usually take Union Street. So another two from Union Street. Again Good Fella’s and that restaurant with red light. 

Haven, Lily and Kelsey are my weekend neighbors. Their mum/step mum, Misty lives at the basement of “our” house with her boyfriend. The three girls come to stay every weekend. They were playing with chalk outside their weekend home. They looked up at me when they heard my footsteps.

Hi, I said, as I walked past them to dump trash.

Hi, they smiled back. Their hair, faces, hands and feet and clothes were all chalk.

Looks like you have great fun, I said with admiration.

They looked at me with some curiosity.

What are you playing? I asked.

Chalk.

So you like them? I asked.

We are just bored, the older girl Kelsey said. Kelsey is only 12, but she almost looks like a young adult. You can see and feel she is growing and she is learning and sometimes pretending to be an adult woman.

How come you are bored?

I don’t know.

Have fun, I said and walked upstairs toward my own apartment. I knew the girls were looking at me without turning my eyes to them. I slowed down, then stopped and asked, Can I take your pictures?

I don’t care, all the girls replied at the same time.

What about your mom? Would she mind? I asked.

Misty! Misty! Can she take our pictures?

Misty came out of her dark basement apartment and looked at me with an expressionless look.

Can I take their pictures? I asked.

Oh, I don’t care.

I felt relieved. It was actually the first time Misty was friendly.