A tiring day
It was a tiring day. I just can't fall asleep. So much things to think of. Listening to Juliette Greco and I am dreaming of Paris again. Maybe 84 is right in a way. There might be no way for me to achieve my dream if I just keep standing or sitting here. Seems that work hard is just not enough. Depend. Maybe.
Recently I am reading Dostoyevsky. A good story teller. Another interesting book is a book about the Great Middle East. This is a world which I never get in touch, chaotic, devote, Muslim, veil, man and woman. There is always a Chinese contemporary novel on my desk. I have to read it, no matter I like it or not. I've started forced myself to read some of the Chinese contemporary works even though I don't see them as great novels. It's turning into the eighth year in China and just start from now I realised that I should have understand deeper about the land I step on. So much changes have been went through. Look at the faces around and most of the time I rather say that I have never know them.
Tired. Tired. It was a tiring day. When comes to the end of the day I found myself disappeared in the dusk, in the lives of others.