Twenty-seven, Twenty-eight, and Beyond: Poetry
On the plane from Los Angeles to Beijing, the 27th day never really existed for me. Instead of two distinctly separate things, I offer a clump.First, I wrote a poem for Los Angeles (which I'm not posting), then I edited the photo on my phone (in airplane mode of course!). I overexposed it, then added a cool (opposite of warm) filter. On the flight from Beijing to Hong Kong (the last sky-based leg of the trip back to Shenzhen), I worked on this line for the turning point in a book I'm writing (mostly only mental notes and observations about the Chinese people who surround me) about being an expat in China:
I became determined to make the rest of my time here so incredible that I would feel a healthy resentment about having to leave for good.
