Sweeping the streets I used to own

Sweet romanticism, nice to indulge in dreams.

I dream of walking through the Taipei streets.Unfamiliar faces stream past, everyone of them harbouring a secret story of their own. I have mine too.

I record the faces. I go back and look at them, and attempt to reconstruct the stories. Their lives will seem better than mine, it has always been this way, hasn't it?

I get lost in a city I know.

I'm dressed up in the most absurd colours, and people shoot me glances. I walk around aimlessly, I have no one on my speed dial, I have no one for help. I'm stuck on the vast desert in an urban city.

I read a book in an old bookstore. I sip coffee at a traditional joint. I talk to random people.

I switched off my phone, in case I get a call. They'd call to tell me it's all a dream.