Storyteller in art


#10 "Eau De Parfum"


I float in the rich suffocating smell.

The space like having no gravity takes away a sense of direction from me.

I am to be nowhere.

The bright moon is melting a square city which barely exists with its milky white light.

I feel butterflies flutter.

But it is autumn now. Probably, one of my senses affects my brain.

It let butterflies flutter by ignoring law of conservation of mass.




When I was a second year student in high school, summer vacation, that bench in the evening, after the club, deodorant. I didn't like physics because I felt it disentangle the world. I wanted the world to be tangled. At least, I could float in it.

Now, I'm far away from physics. I live with trembling falling down toward me. The trembling appears one after another, making sound like rusted doll.

There is a glass surrounds me not to scatter the smell.

I think deodorant after the club is still better.


I imagine my breaking the glass.

I imagine my delivering the rich smell of jasmine and cedar wood  to the moon.


Yes, the night lasts long.