I checked the best-before date on every product at the Asian market. I was standing on a platform, waiting for the next train. I was thinking about last night.
Catcalling. A guy, looking young with AirPods on.

I see platforms, trains and a river when the water drops.
I am dubious about train stations.

I like looking at little twigs on trees. They form sound, patterns, and they float. I tried to see them from the other side of the river, and took photos of ghosts. The distance makes me paint. I count them together on a blank canvas. I feel like I can see in parallel. It is almost transparent, unmethodical.

Maybe, this is just like thunder after lightning.

I look at the whole painting. I see the act of notation. There was a pause, always, like a fleeting smile on her face. I was holding brushes in both my hands. I don’t want to paint people. I don’t want to paint faces.

I waded along the riverbed of Deptford Creek. I saw a pair of sandals embedded there in the middle. People say black looks best on me.
I hope the process will lead the product.

November. 2020