Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Evening walks in the dilated eye of the storm.  §

© Aron Hsiao / 2017

A foot. A foot. A foot. A foot.

Darkness. Light. Darkness.

Here and there, little glimpses through unremarkable windows into other peoples’ happy lives. A few fruit trees. Aging and forgotten address stickers peeling away from suburban mailboxes. The smell of dog urine. The sounds of crickets and the odd passing car alternating in the night.

No idea where you’re going and only a vague memory of where you’ve been.

The smell of bread. A disembodied woman’s laugh somewhere in the distance. She sounds young, maybe twenty.

A few raindrops.

A foot. A foot. A foot. A foot.

— § —

Some people lose their minds worrying about all the terrible things that could happen next, and in doing so, they bring about the apocalypse.

© Aron Hsiao / 2017

Other people constitute their minds in brooding about all of the terrible things that have happened already, and in doing so, they render the daylight forever unto darkness.

I’m sure there is a third kind of people somewhere, but no, they are not the ones that spare no expense in signalling their enlightenment and virtue. These latter are merely pedestrian manifestations of the first two.

Yes, the Buddha lives on in books. So does everyone.

— § —

And for those who work anxiously to bring about the future with every passing moment:

There is no method nor twist of plot by which time becomes your friend. Understand that. Then remember it, always.

— § —

It’s not that hope doesn’t count for much, it’s that the smell of rain in the city, which is free, is already as close to enlightenment as man can come—but it is only ever present in solitude.

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