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Performing Arts Forum, France, 2018

I had such a vivid dream about you. You has returned to London. It must have been years. You looked ever the same, ever beautiful. I didn’t want to ask you about your life with him. You seem to be married for some time. We wanted to look for a house together now, but somehow could only go through this Taiwanese agent family. Apparently the only way we could get the house was through paying for this gold pebble, half gloss half rough, like something from a souvenir shop. We had to pay, and this gold nugget was placed in a of room which was guarded by an authority, it looked like a boat or maybe some lecture hall, people would come through it, the only way, we were told, we could get in was through a type of special citizenship, which we both didn’t have, there was a button on the floor. We waited for what must have been days, begging the people who came by to find a way to let us in, nobody did. The gatekeeper relented after some time, and sent an assistant to give us a key. We opened it and finally entered this room with the pebble in the corner; there were other things too, clothes, magazines. There appeared one of the spies of the agency, telling us what to do next. Apparently he got in easy and said we could have just asked the agency to smuggle us in. It was a kind of housing estate. During this turmoil I asked you about your life in Japan, you burst into tears, not saying anything, it was the same unbearable look when I last saw you at the station in Japan. I knew what you wanted to say. We went back to the agents and talked about what to do next, they said they had to get their 5 year visas just like we would have to. I wake up, here, at the sound of my own unconscious weeping (hhoomm, haoomm). Its 8am, I felt I must have been dreaming for several hours. As I write this passage, tears keep falling. I still miss you, I always think I’ve forgotten about you, I always think I can move on from it, but maybe I cannot. I don’t know. Why do you revisit me so often, it has been years now, why do I still cry when I think of you, it feels like something of you still lives inside of me. I realised it was your birthday today. I didn’t know if I should have written to you to wish you well or if I should try not to remind you of me.

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