Monday, June 30, 2008 - Boston

I've lost track of time, forgetting that today is Monday and that Mondays are not good days to visit museums because that's usually when they close. But here I am, sitting on the steps of the I.C.A staring out into the waters. Seaweed quiver, clinging on to the bay, bobbing up and down. A seagull glides low to the water. I watch in fascination.
The pier is quiet but for the sound of cranes and machine operating a block away. Construction sounds. After seeing the short film City of Cranes I've never quite looked at them the same way again. What usually dismissed or consciously ignored and avoided (such as construction sounds) now pop out against the blue sky. There is something fragile and elegant about the way they stretch their neck up high and balance steel rods from their hooks - ballet of cranes.
There are several other people here, sitting in the shade, staring at the water. perhaps watching the orange balls that mark the pier's territory rise and fall with the waves - as the chest of a sleeping person. they burn orange and the heat of the day settle on my skin, heavy and moist.

With the tall buildings in sight I head across the bridge and along the ferry dock. Matt works not far from South station so I met up with him by the fountain in a park above a parking lot. It was a nice park. It would be nice if all parking lots are built this way. Matt couldn't stay long so he gave me a few smiles and some good-bye hugs. Poor Matt, I agitate him with my random comings and goings. What? You're here?!? Why didn't you tell me??!!
I continued my wanderings after the brief good bye, walking aimlessly into a used bookstore and walking out with 3 books. I should stop squandering money on books I might not be able to carry home.
Now here I am in Quincy market, brushing bugs off my notebook, wondering all the while if there are bugs in my hair. And the two men at the bag stand in front of me zipped and unzipped zipper bags. People stopped to look but not one pulled his/her wallet out. I feel bad but I definitely don't need a zipper bag. Once in a while they say out loud in a sing-song tone It's only one zipper bag~~

I mildly want food but having spent money on water and books I'm refraining myself. Being poor for life would be somewhat problematic. Ah well.

Renee cooked me dinner - one last meal before a while. perhaps a long while. Jack came over too but he had a big lunch so I ended up eating pretty much 2/3 of the food, emptying all the plates and bowls. Good homemade food. How can I resist?
Even with that much food all we ended up talking about before drifting off to sleep that night was food and more food - all the lovely tropical fruits at home that aren't available here. hmm...