the smell of the acid metal air in the subway in nyc
the people hanging out late night at the corners of the city moving their bodies in beautiful ways

waking up early in the morning to the sounds
of my grandpa hitting the metal bowl on his buddhist altar

the roughness of the cold snow, frozen rivers, crispy air blowing in through the window early morning
hidden places, her body asleep, while i prepared my cup of coffee toast spread cheese

the smell of coffee and of cooked rice
delicately placed next to bananas and apples to our long gone relatives in some distant land

the discovery of tenderness, gentleness, infinity
her figure sitting by the stairs, a clumsy cigarette between her fingers, revealing my fear of loving too much---i want to always remember that tenderness

the sun hitting my face, waking me up, and the certainty of the sea
long hours in front of old movies cds books, the comfortable certainty of loneliness

the taste of green tea, 11 at night, shared with my father
i miss that, i miss the youth in his face, the future in my mind my mother's calm asleep traces

the width of the world, palm trees, sand dunes, endless green fields, salty seas, strange languages
the tiny round tube in london, the crowds in tokyo, the bitterness of berlin, the sunrise in a temple in cambodia, feeling lost feeling loose feeling there

the vastness of the sidewalk, the smell of rotten fruit at the street market, the fear of fish smell
barbecues by the pool, awkwardness in my body, sand in the swimsuit, afternoons in the movie theater

knowing the past, and feeling the future right on my skin, the size of the universe, following me wherever i went