Sunday, August 19, 2018


I'm back in Singapore, where the air is fresh and clean, or at least relatively more so, as compared to that of Beijing. Also, despite having very limited freedoms of speech about our government, we still have access to the Internet that the rest of the world has, without having to tap onto VPNs, so there's also that. Thanks for not sucking that much, Singapore. Thanks for not being worse.

Here are some memories in the form of photos.

It was actually a very good week.

I learned many things and experienced also many things, but one thing stuck with me. While walking on the Great Wall, there were many people from many different places who were all cheering each other on. Many of them also said I had on a beautiful dress, because I'd chosen to wear an Indian ethnic outfit (bc why not?).

Making our way down though, we chose to take the ski lift, the ones that are basically a bench with a flimsy metal bar over your legs. My cousin took one with her mum, because one lift only holds two people, and I sat on another one alone. On the way down, I knew it was relatively safe because it was at the Great Wall of China, a tourist attraction that millions of people have already been to, but still, I was dangling over perhaps a couple hundred feet of air, then forest, then the ground. I saw people who were taking the ski lift up, and most of them were in twos.

I know that having someone beside you doesn't make it any safer, but I'm guessing it would have felt a little better. You'd probably be joking about something or another, or sharing the moment with an anecdote, and then you'd forget that what you're doing is a risk to your safety. I thought it might be the same with life, which to me is confusing and overwhelming and unpredictable, and even if having a partner doesn't reduce the actual risk of going through its twists and turns, perhaps it might help it all go down smoother and better.

I watched The Greatest Showman for the first time today, on the airline's in-flight entertainment system. I was somehow sobbing at one of the scenes, and my face was really contorted and I was gasping for air, because I thought I was like, just watching a show, right? But then this flight attendant caught me, and she laughed and I laughed while crying and gasping, and she handed me a napkin, and I felt so great about that interaction.

I met a guy last week in Beijing, he said I write really well, and he joked that he had turned into a fanboy of my writing. I know a couple of men in Beijing, one in Germany, one in Paris, a couple in Brooklyn, a few more in California, very likely several in Singapore, someone in New Zealand, a person in Australia, and they all care for me to some extent. Given the public nature of my writing, they all monitor me to some degree and check in with me when they feel the need to. None of them cares the way I would like to be cared for, I'm so tired of things being transitionary. I want someone who wants to be on the ski lift with me, or on a boring bus ride home, or I don't know, someone who cares and invests themselves just as much as I do.

It was a good week. Beijing was good to me.

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