During the afternoon, I stayed on the couch playing new mobile app game. For a rare material that is hard to drop, I pressed attack button continuously, attacking piccolo birds around the core character. This is a super idiotic action with no meaning, I filled the whole afternoon with this. From time to time, I glance at the computer monitor, waiting for the number ‘two’ o’clock to change to three, three to four.
Waiting is long, and is short. When looking at time from one week to one day, and one day to 24 countings, I have the space to waiting between 1 to 24. When 24 reduce to 1, I have between 1 to 60, and 60 to 60. Waiting can also never end. I can always wait between the divisions. Wait for time to move, events to come. Wait to board the flight in autumn, to leave here, to the day I land in a foreign land.
When the event is too large and there are too many unknowns in the happenings, in one out breath I can easily give up the useless struggles in direct encounter and imaginations. Just waiting for the event to happen, to do nothing. When I enter the state of doing nothing, my brain is empty, slowly nothing comes; I just let it be, in the stillness of disability, in sitting.
Space, I think you are also waiting, as a proper concrete container. As your concrete fragments bits by bits in waiting, before these flying ashes lands, are you waiting in stillness between dust no. one and dust no. two, waiting from one to two, two to four. Endless, in endless waiting, for departure and arrivals.
