I just came back from a foreign land,
from a rice field with contemporary art to a city without much, if any, public art;
found myself sleeping in my old bed but in a new home;
had my first ever all nighter karaoke in Hong Kong with new friends right after a class reunion of seventy something friends I've known for more than 10 years;
I'm now sitting in front of a new room with the same monitor, same table, same chair, same keyboard, same speaker, same mouse, same standing light, but new room with finishings I have never seen in my life.
New height, new orientation, cars and birds singing from behind my head instead of to my right. Light penetrating from unfamiliar angles onto a furniture I've seen for 10 years but now seems all too alien.
People are prepared to get lost when they travel to new places, I was not prepared for myself to get lost in my own home.
As I continue to stumble around in this thing called 'home', I found a green ipod mini from 5 years ago and is once again trapped in a world of alien familiarity, of a reconstructed memory of long gone times, flashes of people who have stayed and who have gone.
A new Bose headphones that was lent and returned plugged into an old green ipod mini that was lost and found.
Please don't ask me what happened in that foriegn land, I am still living in one.
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