I went to a screening on Monday — an evening of humorous insights.
I was filled with reflections, yet they surged faster than I could put them into words.
At the end, we were invited to talk to the artist,
but the event was for networking, not exactly for what had just opened up inside.
So I walked away with a feeling too big for conversation.
On my way home, I kept talking into the night — with a squeaky voice and big gestures.
The tears came after I took a shower.
I sensed the old solitude with an image:
a full moon behind the clouds on a windy night.
But this time, I experienced it differently.
I used to feel as if the moon was witnessing me — my aloneness, my difference.
Now I see myself witnessing the scene unfold —
in the space between what’s alive inside and what the world can hold.
That night, I kept looking at the ceiling before I fell asleep —
watching the imaginary moon,
the scene quietly staying with me until I turned off the light.
Hope you enjoy your moon too.
Truly
Nov 7, 2025
p.s. The screening featured the work of Li Yi-Fan.
Don’t miss it if you ever get the chance to see his work!
p.p.s. On my way home, I left this little voice note to myself —
a small piece from that walk:
“I’m telling you: you gotta leave a record on your own, keep it to yourself (instead of sending the voice message to someone else). No, no, no, no, no… You’ll scare the puppy (my husband’s nickname lol). He won’t like it. He won’t listen. He won’t listen. Right? He won’t listen. He won’t listen. Right? Yes? And if you keep it to yourself. Happy. Enjoy. (Crossing the street) Am I blocking the bike? Am I blocking the bike? Oh, OK… It’s OK, let’s keep talking and stop recording. I’ll stop recording cause it’s inconvenient. It’s inconvenient to keep recording. Stop recording. I’ll stop recording. Let’s keep talking.”