I had the feeling that you were already gone, after sharing myself in bed with you once again, watching you wake up and feeling immersed in your scent without feeling at all those tidal waves of emotions that you brought to me, so I knew that you were no longer overseas, you are no longer the ocean swallowing my shipwrecks, nor the waves cleaning my beaches. However today I dreamed of you, late after 8 o'clock in the dance hall, dancing “La petite mort”, careful of each stroke of your authorship that your well formed and delicately educated line traced, with your gaze shocked and focused on me, your only audience for your favorite piece. I believe that this is how you made dance fully a definition of you and vice versa; in principle what made me feel that it was a terrain I should not tread on.
One would suppose that this morning would be full of melancholy and pain, but I think I don't miss you anymore, we are getting to the calm, just let go of the dance, leave the boards and the theaters to my calm, neither you want to stay in that signifier nor I want you signifying....
Photographers: PJ Wang
Artist of the subsistence.
A dramatic and explosive vessel.
Monologuist and lover of gestures.
Student of life and the human being.