JULIETTE

My hands were frozen, and I couldn’t move them. Juliette, you and I are certainly far apart. It’s not just geographical distance, but the way a woman and a man think is far more distant. I don’t know what else to say except that I’m still alive. On the night when the light of the spring stars reaches the bottom of the fountain, all I can do is show you my feelings as they are in the light. 

I ate rice from a lacerated bowl. There were days when I was beaten so severely with a baton that I could not get up for days. In a world where nothing is certain, one may continue to search for certainty, and I’m waiting for some kind of signal from you. Juliette, even if it’s just a small rustle of wings, it’s better than feeling uncertain. 

I don’t have a past like a worn stone. There is no future like a curtain that harbors the wind. Now I am filled with the image of you. I see you on the wine like freshly squeezed fruit that I have just soaked up at a wealthy gallery. Tonight, from the darkening sky, another clear, cold spring rain will fall.  

If you want, I can crystallise those raindrops into starlight on my palm. I want to see the light in your eyes, so that it may shine in the center of Juliette’s black eyes and shine in my own. I am beaten to the ground like a stray dog, with no place to go back to, while dreaming of you. My beloved homeland, Juliette.