I watch the hipster couple set up their blue acrylic walls on the rooftop, where the water tanks are.
I listen to the girl on the ground floor, mispronouncing a laksa dish they specialise in. noodles that come with tattoos, especially for skin art enthusiasts and vision artists with squid ink, dangerous thai temples etched into hardened backs, serpents, dragons, cobras, faded with time.
I tell the gang of thieves about the new restaurant. the wife of a thief, who own vietnamese rice rolls, isn’t pleased she has competition. the thing about our presence in this world is that it involves an art exhibition, but with paintings half finished or paused at the sketching stage.
in the same heartbeat of time, I’m in hotel ballrooms, at mindless corporate events. I do not feel pain or anger when i meet my ex-business partner who failed us. I only give him my card, reminding him I’m a diviner.
in the same pulse of time, I recognise this white hill, this white road, where the white canvasses are. i see the shape of stars and arches and crosses and compass points.
this hill is where hell used to be.
I’m on an observation deck where i continue learning to control my levitation and flight of body.
part of the knowledge is muscular tension and release.
a clenching of thighs and sides of torso to move left or right, a breathing in to lighten, to ascend, navigation using subtle sensations, a feeling of currents and vortexes in the heart. one has to move the body with the awareness of air and density of gravity, changing weight with thought and emotion, to land or move gently.
i am not sure if the others in the oblong room can see me floating. they appear to be listening to an unseen teacher somewhere outside the long window, through which i am watching a hipster couple, setting up blue opaque walls on the rooftop.