Beijing

The white air of Beijing makes everything look dim. Everything seems hazy as sunk in reminiscence. The sun, through the white round mass of air, is beaten down on my eyelashes heavily. The heavy yellowy sun on my eyelashes makes everything look even hazier. The white, warm, soft dusty breeze pacifies my heart. The death of fool is become a bit of inoffensive dirt then gone with that warm dusty breeze. The freedom from life. The moment when the intangible freedom seems even more perfect within the square created by ‘the material’ of Marx and Engels, this is the time for the tears of void and contradiction of Metaphysics which has been crying for the complete ethics and freedom. When my eyes and nose are paralyzed by the white pungent air so the things melt into dreams, all the phenomena seem not to exist, mongrelized with hazy memories. The misty beauty which the question of Ontology does not dare to bother leads all our senses to its ecstasy, so that the present life becomes dreams without a guarantee of reality.


Angel Hye-young Kim 2005-2006 Beijing