da nang

missing FS so much,
filled with bits of regret i cant replay that memory (and sydney)
almost effortlessly now 
because i did not take the time to pen everything down
so i’m learning from that, and from exchange,
and am putting in more effort right now
so my future self can r e p l a y and r e c a l l 
(albeit never 100% – memory tweaks as it wills, that I believe – but still a little something
for myself)

My impression of butchers has always been that they were males 
Here women crowded around the tables

Rhythmic slicing on the chopping board

Nimble, skillful fingers that worked in tandem with the shells 
Women sitting haggling over prices 
Rearranging the food 
What a gendered space, my mind inevitably wandered 
Smell of fish and the flesh of meat 
The crab clawed lazily into the air 
I reached for the pack of egg noodles – and was startled by something black creeping from underneath 

The way we weaved in and out of the crowd of motorcyclists 
night 3:
‘3 things / people / events that changed your life / shaped you to be who you are today’
strange isn’t it, how these things work
where we lay our bare selves in the dark of the night
split ourselves raw to people we hardly know
dark, in the dark
perhaps it’s easier that way
who are we telling? sometimes i feel like we are confessing
aloud, to ourselves
i acknowledge it
aloud
how did we build all these walls up?
each one of us hold so much stories beneath the actions we take. 
each one of us hold so much stories beneath ourselves. 
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