I treasure every moment of tonight. It made me remember many moments of my time with you. Not long after you left us, I dialed your number by accident. A familiar voice reached my ears.
“Please leave a message, 請留言。”
I spoke into the phone, “不如我哋由頭嚟过。”
Why don’t we start over again? And if we could, then it wouldn’t be just me on the stage tonight.
- Tony Leung, 隔空對話/Monologue, Photo by Wing Shya
It is said that Daffy kept Leslie’s number all these years; which explains why his voice message could be played on stage. At the end of the tribute, when Daffy’s message and name was typed out on the screen slowly, as a song Leslie once dedicated to him played - it was raining tears at the Coliseum.
In real life, 黎耀輝沒離開過何寶榮。Yiu-Fai has never left Po-Wing.
離開書店o既時候我留低o左把遮 希望拎o左佢番屋企o個個係你啦 I left my umbrella behind as I left the bookstore
I hope you are the person who would take it home
二零零零年零時零分, 電視直播紐約時代廣場o既慶祝人潮 我有無見過你呀？
2000, 00:00, New York, Times Square crowd live telecast
Have I seen you before? 如果你識我o既話, 我今年會收到D乜o野聖誕禮物呀？ 呢間餐廳呢隻水杯, 你會唔會用過?
If you knew me, what will I be getting for Christmas this year?
This glass at the diner, have you used it before? 我由布魯塞爾坐火車去阿姆斯特丹, 望著o係窗外面飛過o既幾十個小鎮 幾千里土地幾千萬個人. 懷疑我o地人生裡面.
唯一可以相遇o既機會, 已經錯過o左 Took a train from Brussels to Amsterdam, the little towns that flew by
Thousand miles of land millions of people, I suspect that in this life
The only chance of us meeting, I have missed
(喜歡的歌 差不多吧) 李泰祥o既新唱片你買o左未呀？
(對你會否 曾打錯號碼) 我懷疑o個次把聲好沙o個個係你
(我坐這裡 你坐過嗎) 我認得你o既字跡o架
(偶爾看著 同一片落霞) 佢由亞洲一直飄到南美洲
(The songs we like, are alike) Have you bought Lee Tai Hsiang's new album?
(I ever dialed you by mistake?) Suspect you're the one with smoky voice
(I am sitting here, have you too?) I remember your handwriting
(Occasionally, we look at the same sunset) As it drifts from Asia to South America
I bought two illustration books by Jimmy Liao
One of them is for you, maybe tomorrow.
- Music and monologue by Leslie Cheung, performed by Anthony Wong
Little Thunder‘s Moonrise Kingdom
This is a love song for you and me
On this cold cold winter night
Wish you are with me
So I pray and pray that soon you’ll be mine
and I’ll be yours for a long long time
Merry Christmas. Goodnight.
“So far as we feel sympathy, we feel we are not accomplices to what caused the suffering. Our sympathy proclaims our innocence as well as our impotence. To that extent, it can be (for all our good intentions) an impertinent- if not inappropriate- response. To set aside the sympathy we extend to others beset by war and murderous politics for a reflection on how our privileges are located on the same map as their suffering, and may- in ways we might prefer not to imagine- be linked to their suffering, as the wealth as some may imply the destitution of others, is a task for which the painful, stirring images supply only an initial spark.
Compassion is an unstable emotion. It needs to be translated into action, or it withers. The question of what to do with the feelings that have been aroused, the knowledge that has been communicated. If one feels that there is nothing ‘we’ can do — but who is that ‘we’? — and nothing ‘they’ can do either — and who are ‘they’ — then one starts to get bored, cynical, apathetic.” - Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others
“Regarding the Pain of Others” was Susan Sontag’s last published book. It was a frustrating read on photography and war, because every page contains so much truth and helplessness. Today I was reminded of the book after a friend introduced me a song by Alt-J, Taro.
The song is about the first female war photojournalist, Gerda Taro. Taro was the partner of Robert Capa, who later co-founded Magnum. Taro died in 1937 when in battle. She was only 26.
We are a few days from 2013, and there are still people dying in Libya, Syria, Gaza etc etc. I am so afraid of spotting Nicole Tung’s name in the news. She chose to be out there in the firefights covering and exposing the brutality of war, over a comfortable desk job in Hong Kong or New York.
This Christmas as you pick out a new phone, a new camera for yourself, or gifts for people you love; please consider paying attention to what is happening elsewhere, too. Not very merry. But Merry Christmas.
Not the best photo of Faye. But the best photo of Faye.
[ 圖: Christopher Doyle/Buenos Aires ; 字：夏宇/冬眠 ]
Chungking Mansions, block C, 3rd floor, Delhi Club. Whisper the following to the waiter: “Chicken tikka masala, garlic naan.”
“I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost.” — Nan Goldin
Reblogging my own photo that somehow has amassed nearly 17,000 reblogs without a single credit to me! #tumblr
by SEAN MARC LEE.
The tumblr experience is a bit like pornography. There are personal journals that do reflect their author’s persona through original content and curation; those are almost like sex, those are the artistic porn.
Everything else is bad porn, it gets the objective done, but it is meaningless. When a person hits the reblog button 35 times a day, does he have the time to process what each one means to the creator/artist/photographer? It is like going to a museum and running around to see everything, instead of trying to understanding something.
Sure, people like sharing their inspiration. But when this reflex occurs on everything, every subsequent reblog is desensitization. What does 1125 pages of visual feast mean to the viewer? What does it mean to the owner? There is a lot of bad porn.
And then, there is the category of thieves who post things and claim it as their own, because they want more followers, more likes. Those are the real wankers. But they are only harming themselves: to create and to duplicate or to replicate are very different matters. So you wank ten times a day, it doesn’t make you better in bed.
Understandably, it is normal to think about sex several times a day. But once you lose the immediate urgency of trying to digest the stories and meanings, it is just pornography. Take it slow.
Wong Kar-Wai is the bad boyfriend type. He told you he would visit, but it has been years.
You read the letters he wrote you over and over. One day, he suddenly mentioned that he will be spending Christmas. You explode with happiness. A few days before his visit, you receive a letter, “Sorry I changed my flight, I will be here in January. Merry Christmas.” Change of flight? More like, change of mind. I hope there is no change of heart.
Not that I am affected by the delay. But remember 2046? Remember this poster? He said that Maggie Cheung will be coming with him. She did. She dropped by and flashed you a smile. Anyone anticipating Song Hye-kyo’s visit, please brace your fragile heart.