Status Updates From La città che non c'è

‘Carrying the letter at his chest—set out for Shanghai—When he opened it, he saw that it contained only two simple lines—Then he saw that at the bottom there was a line that had been blacked out with ink. He held the letter up to the light coming through the window—‘as leaves fall back down to their roots, so must one return to one’s hometown’—He lowered his head—dried his eyes—his figure—receding into the sunlight—’

‘—its bamboo awning into the docks—willow tree growing at the water’s edge—embroidery—featured three branches of plum blossoms—each time she cooked rice she would make enough to eat for two days—because it was already past mid-autumn festival, the rice would keep for that long without spoiling—once again said he would eat some cold rice with some pickled vegetables—‘I’ll make some fried rice in soy sauce’ she said—’

‘For ten days her mind was elsewhere, and everything she put in her mouth tasted like dust—This fate was determined in a previous life—flames flickering on the wick of the lamp until late that night—consumed two jin of rice wine—filled with a thousand different feelings—someday they would all return to their hometown—his head tilted to the side, giving her the feeling that he could drop into the water at any moment—’

‘People—sprouted up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain—a mix of northern and southern accents—reached the Guanyin temple—When they wrote down their names at the ‘eight immortals’ table, they saw that there were already—names in front of theirs—When the forest is big, you get all kinds of birds—‘Here, some things my mother made you—to eat on the road.’—Take good fucking care of yourself—we’ll meet again some day—’

‘—at the Guanyin temple—behind them—like cats in the middle of the night—'You’re a bandit—not a monk. No one wants to see your Bodhisattva’s heart'—yellow rice wine from Shaoxing; “fortune & faith” from Hangzhou; “three whites” from Songjiang; “red pal” from Yixing; quince wine—Yangzhou; “hundred flowers” from Zhenjiang; xiaruo—Tiaoxi; lahuang—Huai’an; pujiu—Pukou; xunjiu—Zhexi; sharendou—Suqian & wujiapi—Gaoyou.’

‘—frozen birds—dropped from the trees, making soundless dents in the snow. The trees on either side—creaking—snapping—it was almost like the sound of crackling wood in a forest fire—rays of light on the windowpane—spread out—as if they were about to cut through the room like a saw—sunlight greeted him like crashing waves—Winter passed, spring arrived—When green buds burst forth from the frozen scars of the trees.’