journal

Kowloon Peninsular is accessible from HK Island by virtually every form of transport known; not, however, by the famous and fabulous HK tram: a tunnel links the two under what seems a shallow harbour, though its waters are plied by very large boats. We got there by ferry – after making

Hong Kong is awesome. We first saw the city through the diffusion gauze of a rainy morning. We’d had a flight that despite being marked by turbulence came in at an hour under time. A tail wind, apparently. An easy flight, once we’d set to the side the

I agree there are still some things wrong with the following post, and the PAGE called Dear Visitor , things that might eventually get fixed, missing links, and so on. (I’d like the black circle itself to be live to the cursor, for example, and not the surrounding square, to

fear took hold of him, or rather tightened its grip and entered his body. – Roberto Bolaño, Nazi Literature in the Americas, trans. Chris Andrews, Picador, London, 2010, p. 127 operating outside space and time, at the dawn of a new age, as it were, in which spatio-temporal perception is

The body oscillates between carrying a profound anatomical shock, and deliquescing into a mist of deteriorating celluloid, in performance films of Hijikata’s work. – Stephen Barber, Hijikata: Revolt of the Body , Creation Books, 2006, p. 57 – Hijikata, 1969, poor copy of photo by Masahisa Fukase Ankoku Butoh would be an

The black slit lies in its copper cloud. ‘Quiet as a knife.’ His heart beats its heavy, sinking beats. Straight into the shadowy blue channel through the pines. Fall silently or remain hanging. They stay just as they are, forgotten. – from Alexander Ahndoril’s The Director , trans. Sarah Death, Portobello