Flying...

1. as the plane goes up, higher and higher, and as the city falls back below, further and further, I see the purple color the eyes, flowers bursting on bare branches become a deep color of longing, a strange place has becomes home. The color in warmer climate is more intense. I still remember, and love the whiteness of peach blossoms, the yellow of daffodils, the pink of magnolia shaking off the cold of winter in the North...of Poland, and Massachusetts, but LA is different. I still feel the amazement from the first time waking up into a sky of purple, streets of purple, lawns of purple, little flowers lining the road of poor and rich neighborhoods alike. For once LA is not divided into zones that cut into your heart when you move from million dollars homes to skid row and back. The purple soothe the border between those who have too much and those who have a bit less than nothing. 3 purple seasons, and I still have not stopped wondering...surprised every time I suddenly realize that what they say about California having only one season of sunshine is a lie. There is rain, and cold, and the most purple spring that comes back every year to remind us about beauty and love and loss and longing...
2. the perfect circle of rainbow appears out of nowhere. Looking out of the window I suddenly realize I no longer remember how clouds are formed, how rainbows are made, knowledge and dreams have gotten lost in time. As we glide through mountains of puffy white air, a tiny shadow of a plane seems to fly next to me, surrounded by a perfect circle of rainbow, sometimes intensely colorful, othertimes a mere imagination of eyes half asleep. And I feel like I have not seen clouds in such a long time, not the type of smoggy overcast that covers up the sun, but big, white boulders of cloud drifting on the sky that make you think about rain and thunder storms and rays of light piercing through after a shower to light up freshly washed trees...and a rainbow, not a perfect cirle, but the shape of an arch, leading children and care bears into their sweet, sweet dreamland.
3. 24 hours before setting my feet on the plane you gave me the reason to be eager to fly yet again over an empty landscape of sand and bald hills. 20 minutes after sitting down and fastening my seat belts on a delayed flight I was mesmerized by coutless shadows playing trick on no man's land, counting the layers of time lying bare on mountains whose only color is the color of dirt. And i discovered where the lonely roads are leading, the ones we sometimes see and wonder who they were for, where they would take us. Tiny spots of green, little pools of water surrounded by nothingness. And I wonder, how much love does it take to be together in the middle of nowhere.

Một Cõi Đi Về

Bao nhiêu năm rồi còn mãi ra đi
Đi đâu loanh quanh cho đời mỏi mệt
Trên hai vai ta đôi vầng nhật nguyệt
Rọi suốt trăm năm một cõi đi về

Lời nào của cây lời nào cỏ lạ
Một chiều ngồi say một đời thật nhẹ ngày qua
Vừa tàn mùa xuân rồi tàn mùa hạ
Một ngày đầu thu nghe chân ngựa về chốn xa

Mây che trên đầu và nắng trên vai
Đôi chân ta đi sông còn ở lại
Con tinh yêu thương vô tình chợt gọi
Lại thấy trong ta hiện bóng con người

Nghe mưa nơi này lại nhớ mưa xa
Mưa bay trong ta bay từng hạt nhỏ
Trăm năm vô biên chưa từng hội ngộ
Chẳng biết nơi nao là chốn quê nhà

Đường chạy vòng quanh một vòng tiều tụy
Một bờ cỏ non một bờ mộng mị ngày xưa
Từng lời tà dương là lời mộ địa
Từng lời bể sông nghe ra từ độ suối khe

Trong khi ta về lại nhớ ta đi
Đi lên non cao đi về biển rộng
Đôi tay nhân gian chưa từng độ lượng
Ngọn gió hoang vu thổi suốt xuân thì

Hôm nay ta say ôm đời ngủ muộn
Để sớm mai đây lại tiếc xuân thì

for my complicated...

thunder storm...
it seems like I just picked you up an hour ago and we were driving through streets, strange and yet not so strange, to get something we both miss, more than food, we had to go feed our soul on the time that has passed, the time we had spent away from each other
it feels empty after you are gone, strangely lonely, as if you have been here always in this room watching random TV and laughing at old memories...not so much different from that distant day when we roam the winding roads on a snowy campus, looking for một phút giao thừa
and I think I have missed you all this time, a sister, a friend, therefore so complicated, and distance and time never really managed to turn us into strangers, somewhere along the way of two parallel paths we would wander and meet
twins, not because we happen to look like each other

missing

too many questions with no answers pulsing through an empty heart waiting to be filled the day we meet again
...wondering...whose smile you see in your sleep tonight...

too complicated

Sometimes I wish I could read other people's mind, the way Edward the vampire could just listen to the thoughts of those surrounding him and know exactly how to react, well until he meets Bella and all the complications result precisely because suddenly he has to guess that bundle of desire and hate and love and insecurity and doubt that is hidden inside the maze of hair and facial expression and eyes and sighs.
Sometimes I wish I knew the reason behind our heart, the way it skips one beat when we see someone, the way it accelerates when we look into their eyes, the way that it cannot fake longing when everything that seemed to be cute and sweet becomes annoying. And we know that something has changed, but then, how are we supposed to know whether that change is permanent, that the excitement and laugh and silliness will never come back again the way a heart lies lifeless no matter how much pressure you exert on it again, and again, when love has died. Or, whether this is just a moment of doubt, the fear of loosing ourselves in something too peaceful to the point of monotone, but which, if let go will be so painful, it could revive again what we have forgotten in the routine of daily life.
And I remember a night so long ago, when we talked about pain, walking along the beach with the moisture of the air burning our eyes. The way we laughed soon after at our own silliness of thinking that pain will be inevitable if we plunge ourselves in this wave of emotions - the heart has forgotten its reason, abandoned its guard, setting itself up to be stabbed, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing we could do about it, except to pray.

The beginning of the end...

Khắc khoải ngọn đèn đêm.
Ngón tay anh lùa qua tóc em ngỡ mình đang cách xa nhau vài trăm dặm.
Hai bàn chân đặt sát cạnh nhau sao không chạm
Nghe từng giọt phút giây đếm ngược về ngày tháng cuối cùng.
Mình nhìn vào mắt nhau.
Những tia lửa ngày hôm qua đang lập loè chờ tắt.
Những gì ta dành cho nhau trong ngày thường bỗng trở thành vụn vặt.
Và em lặng yên khi biết rằng trong anh tình yêu chỉ còn là mỏi mệt.
Cho dù tay trong tay,
mình đang bước đi về hai phía một con đường.
Những gì ta đã có với nhau, e chỉ vừa đủ để khóc thương...

Mundane

I find myself fighting with wireless internet everywhere I go. Maybe it has something to do with having a Mac, which is cute, but so very incompatible, or maybe I am just way to impatient, expecting everything to open the moment I happen to want it, and when it doesn't I get upset, ready to pull my hair and start a fight...if I only knew where that modem is - mày sẽ biết tay chị.
But then, what is wrong with having to wait a minute for a website to load, what is wrong with not reading my favorite tabloid for a day? Absolutely nothing at all...still, anger is building up inside forcing me to find another way for it to open, if only to roll my eyes at another random, unreliable piece of writing. I think I am spoilt by the speed of modern life, the feeling that I must be able to find out everything I want, whether it is the newest boyfriend of Paris Hilton, or the name of a random tendon in your foot. Google is my best friend, my go to person, my source of wisdom, and I am ready to take a fight with anyone/anything who prevents me from seeking his advice. Yes, even if it is something so intangible as wireless internet...
What happens to mystery, and the anxiety of the unknown, the excitement of digging through the library to find the right book, the right page, the right word? The joy of learning slipping through the fingertips onto the keyboard, when everything seems to be only a webpage away.