Diaspora — sounds almost too mythical and epical that only poets and scholars would coin such term. In H-city it has become the english equivalent of “離散”, which literally means “separation” and “scatter”. Instead of the grand scale of Diaspora, speaking separation does feels a bit more close to heart.
It is a mother kissing her child off to school, a pet owner leaving the dog-sitter’s door, the autumn leaf falling from its branch, female sea turtles parting from their eggs, rockets separating until only the astronauts’ capsule is left orbiting in vast space. Separation. Everywhere and every time.
The boy asks, so will baby turtles see their mommy again?
I say, probably not, but they have each other.
Think of it. It’s still hard isn’t it?
On my way home I was thinking about the re-connections I’ve started to make early this year, quite desperately but comfortingly, with my friends still residing in H-city. Do we really separate in this age of live streaming and video calls? What is “still here” and “real gone”?
Imagine measuring these events in weight. An immigrated cousin equals 85 lego boxes; a broken finger 320 paint brushes; a lost relationship 1691 rose petals; a late friend? Could be a rock that sinks into the weighing scale where it never reach a final number. “It comes in waves”, people are saying. As a moment of grief rises, everything else subsides. Sometimes it moves on to the next, and the next, and the next. What’s more scary is a tsunami.
All winds rush and gone. Never a chance to chase and catch it like a kite. Even if you fly a magic carpet, who knows if the wind you are riding is still the same one that your palm has missed.
My nose began to twitch. Not a good sign when driving. So I pulled up and wrote my thoughts away. “Maybe we could be/Slow dancing until the morning/We could be/Romancing the night away”, sang the shuffled Spotify.
Dear friend, start a small dance, do a latte art, count the steps. It is okay. Like the hatched baby turtles march their first march to the sea, they know their way to the same beach where their world together began.
29.09.24
