They told me rain is rare in Dunhuang
and that sleeping dogs lie.

But today it rained.
And the dogs yearn for carnal pleasure in cheap hourly rooms.

The coffee bars are empty now and the dogs like me, indulge in living and could not care less what life was for.

It all begins with love, but not love tied to a tree.

I told  the dogs that it is easy to find reasons to satisfy your libido, they said nothing matters after.

So now I write down seductive, inconsequential words. And the dogs are free to find a blank space.

It is 20:17 in Dunhuang, at least CCTV 13 says so.
I met a girl called 'Mathilda'

She offered me some Chicken soup.
And we talked about Jean Reno.

I asked her " Is it possible that a plant can be a friend?"
She smiled and told me that '"The killer is not so cold"

Today I went for coffee at M.Gateau's
'Yesterday Once More' was on the radio
Children running around in pink shirts,
twins I think.
Few elements of distrust.

I met a woman who knew about Karen Carpenter
Filled with fear at every bite she took
A deceitful relationship.

I met a man who said stars will fall from heaven
He told me he dreamt of missed connections
And misheard echoes of the past.

I met an old solider who said he had fought at Jarama
And tried to teach the children that he was not untrue.
I asked him about the death of Spain.

In another place - a place different from this
It would be easy to shut my eyes to war.

But then who would care for the children who have forgotten their dolls? And the poor who travel by night under the gaze of the great bear?

It is my choice to open my eyes and see the reflections in the mirror. The cursed indifference of all those who do nothing whilst  parents worry about their children dancing strange steps.

Now I show my fist until the pain has passed into time's earth.
And the lonely man can dance without rhythm.

Last night I dreamt that I had a conversation with Stephen
Hawking, at least I think it was a dream?

I asked him about the history of time in Taiyuan
He said that “The earth is brittle and the scent of the past heavy”

I wanted to know about black holes.

But he kept talking about people who hold out their hands to nothing at all. And how narrow space was in this place.

So we went for a walk by the Fen.
And talked about the death of an English country on a Chinese road.

This seemed huge.

I felt the warmth of the winter sun and saw people that could not rise.

He asked me “Why did I come to teach here if I had worries about the weather?’

I woke up and wondered if we had communicated at a higher level?