I met Sabine on October 9, 2004 for the first time in Berlin. We had breakfast at a place near Zionskirchplatz. She snapped a picture of me with my camera. She suggested we both took a picture everyday at 3 p.m. and wrote her something everyday when I was in Berlin. I agreed and sent the following to Sabine via e-mail from October 9 to October 29, 2004.
October 9
The eggs here has numbers printed on them.
1-NL 4278001
It doesn't resemble a date of any kind. I ask my friend about it. She doesn't have a clue. There must be some simple practical reason. But I want to imagine it to be some kind of information about where they are from, who their parents are, what they do, how to contact them....you know, some kind of egg address or egg zip code.
But then it must be one big crowded family since all the eggs in the fridge have the same number.
October 10
Dear Sabine, Did u take your pic? This 3 pm thing make me feel like there's something certain everyday in the midst of all uncertainties. This is what I write today:
I'm feeling like the beginning of a movie today. Uncertain about what will come next. Berlin sidewalk. I see everything like I see it for the first time. Sunny Sunday morning.
Sunday. Finally Sunday. The last Truffuat movie. My favourite movie title. It has another awkward English title called "Confidentially yours". It's based on a novel called A long Saturday night.
It begins with a woman walking on a sunny Paris street. A man follows him. They exchange glances. When they come to a street corner, the man said,'You are going that way?' The woman smiled and said, 'That's life' and walk away.
My other favourite movie titles include 'A brighter summer day' and 'Funny Face'
October 11
I don't know who is more lost.
You would be surprised how many times you have been asked for directions by somebody on the street. There are hundreds of people they can ask. But they choose to ask an Asian man with a camera on his neck.
It usually starts with 'Gutten'. Then I am lost.
He or she is lost too, literally.
Remember that Chet Baker's song?
Let's get lost.
Dear Sabine...sorry to hear about you losing your purse....hope things are not too bad. I am going to a movie at 8 in Kreuzberg...Before Sunset...call me if u are interested....or I talk to u later....
October 12
I was riding the U-Bahn as usual. The man sitting opposite me take out his mobile phone (or handy as people say here) and begins to press on the button with both hands with agitation. I begin to imagine the chance of this man being a terrorist and is going to start off some bomb on the train. And I would be blown to pieces.
They would know nothing about me apart from the photographs in my camera, my burnt passport, my return plane ticket on October 29. And they will call either Angelica and Sabine since they are the only two numbers on my phone.
October 13
I realize, until recently, that every photograph I've taken is an attempt to look for uncertainties.
If that's really true, why would I want to do that in the first place?
Do I need proof for uncertainties?
Do I need to make uncertainties certain by capturing them in a photograph? Put it in a frame. Hang it on a wall.
So it will not go anywhere.
It just doesn't seem to make any sense.
Hi Sabine....I suddenly feel like going home today...mmmm...wonder why?
October 14
I walked by Potsdamer Platz late evening. The wind is freezing. I already have my winter jacket on. I saw a red carpet outside the cinema.
Premiere night....some Hollywood movie. No one I have heard of.
A dozen photographer are waiting for the stars to arrive. Since I have nowhere to go, I decide to play the role of photojournalist for a while.
When some familiar faces come by (which is unfamiliar to me), the photographers yell, 'Look here, wave your hand, touch your hat...'
I look down on the red carpet. It has the word 'Fascination' on it. I assume it's the movie title.
I snap a pic.
Fascination.
My photojournalist work is done.
P.S. we can meet anytime tomorrow. There's a show opening tomorrow night. But I don't really have to go. I hate opening anyway. Call me or I'll call you.
October 15
Some English words I encountered in this city.
Partial truth.
A camera called 'ME' (I bought it)
Armstrong, which is a gay club.
Copy Clara (which used to be a restaurant also called 'Clara'. I was there 9 years ago. It used to be on a street also called Clara, but now she changes her name to Dorotheen).
Dickhardtstrasse. It's not English. It's just funny.
Two books I saw in the same book shop within 30 seconds, 'The Last Image' and 'Trying to dance'. Both have photographs of my friends in them.
October 16
Two people I encountered on the U-Bahn that caught my attention.
Middle-aged man, in a grey jacket, eyes closed,sucking his thumb with all his strength. Seems he can suck all of himself through his own thumb. I guess all that's left behind finally would be the thumb, rolling on the ground, dancing to the rhythm of the train.
Young girl, blonde, with a yellow scarf, biting her finger vigoursly, then smell her own palm repeatedly like what people would do buying perfume. Long slender fingers, just like N., especially the wrist. N. has a yellow scarf just like that too.
October 17
Knowing a city is somehow like knowing a person.
You heard about her through some aquiantances. You built up some kind of impression. When you first met her, you were being attracted by certain peculiarties of her, her smell, her voice may be, how she moves....
Everything is still in the imaginary.
Over time, you get more information about her. You see the same move for the second time, the third time....
Her image is more than an impression. You are crossing into the realm of reality.
Once you separate with her, you carry something about her in you. You miss her after a while. That something you carry begins to grow wildly. You walk back into the imaginary. The memory so to speak. The impression.
You may never know a city, or a person. The more you see each other, the harder you can distinguish between which is the imaginary and which is the reality. They stick to each other like a Siamese twins.
October 18
Some similarities and differences between Sabine and Stephen:
They are both 37 years old. They are both photographers. Sabine decided to be a photographer in 1998. Stephen went to study photography in NYC in 1998. Sabine doesn't quite cook. Stephen cook even less. Sabine is in Berlin right now. So is Stephen. Sabine has been to Hong Kong. So has Stephen. Sabine's name starts with 'S'. So does Stephen. Sabine lives alone. Stephen lives alone sometimes. Sabine has never been married. Stephen has never been married. Sabine has a not too full fridge. Stephen has a pretty full fridge. But the one in NYC was even emptier. Sabine has no kid. Stephen is the only child. Sabine knows Danielle. Stephen knows Danielle. Sabine knows Stephen. Stephen knows Sabine. Sabine takes photographs everyday between 3:00 - 3:10 pm. So does Stephen. Stephen writes a story to Sabine everyday. Sabine reads a story from Stephen everyday.
See u after Prague. Take care...
October 19
Everything seems lighter.
That's what I feel about Prague in my first day.
Just before 7 am, I snap my first picture of this city. The deep blue in the sky switches itself on slowly.
Everything seems much lighter despite the history of this city. Lightness. Not unbearable as Kundera may have said.
You can't help mix a little dance step in your walking.
October 20
I didn't take a picture of Prague just before 7 am after all. I didn't put film in one of my camera. Dear Sabine, you are not alone. I lost half of my day here on film (well, I use 2 cameras), including some of the 3 p.m. assignment of October 19. I am in the same area today. So I go back, trying to take the same pictures. The light is different. The girl who is on the balcony yesterday is not there anymore. I still press the shutter at the empty balcony.
October 21
Let's talk a little bit about freedom.
I have ordered breakfast everyday at the boarding house I am staying. So every morning just before 9 am, somebody will bring a continental breakfast to my room. I don't know what it exactly will be so I basically don't have any choice. Today is bread with cream cheese, some kind of paste with beef flavour and jam. Within 5 seconds, I have already built up a routine of putting them on my bread in that particular order.
Cream cheese, some kind of paste with beef flavour, jam.
So even I have the freedom to choose, I choose order.
Are we yearning for freedom in security? Or yearning for security in freedom?
No matter what, I still have the freedom to choose. Choice was the sweet sinful fruit that led to our Paradise lost.
I was at Vysehrad this morning, an old castle overlooking Vltava. I looked down from the edge. The beauty is breathtaking. I can imagine it to be the best spot for suicide. Jumping down hundreds of feet into the Vltava. What a thought.
October 22
The place is Vysehrad, Prague. Just after 10 in the morning. A nun opens the door of the church and picks up some yellow flowers on the doorstep. She nods and smiles to me before she walks down the slope. She has a wonderful smile. I have snapped a picture of those yellow flowers just before she opened the door.
I just wonder how much a role destiny plays allowing me to witness that smile.
October 23
Midnight hours. Dancing girls in the window at the border town. Starry night. Lights from hundreds of years ago shinning on the face of a girl from Hungary. She has a very distinctive expression. Almost sad, but not quite. The German police asked her to get off the bus. Some passport problem.
'I don't speak German. I'll go with you.' She said.
The Czech custom didn't stamp on my passport. I have no proof I've been to Prague.
My friend E. was on the road for about a year a while ago. She said the longer you travel, the blurrier the borders become.
I wonder what she really meant about borders.
October 24
After I came back from Prague, Berlin seems more relaxed. Or I should say, I am more relaxed.
Feel like Summer, look like Autumn.
I bought JH's new book. He writes, "I am always looking for presence. It's easier than to stick with absence."
I, otherwise, find it easier to stick with absence.
October 25
This accordion player at the Alexanderplatz U-Bahn station plays that Piazzolla tune all the time and I don't usually pay much attention to it. I just feel that it sounds like music you would play at the end of a movie, when the end credit is rolling. Then the light would be on and you would be overwhelmed by the reality again.
Today I suddenly realize that it's the same music used in the Wong Kar Wai movie shot in Argentina. And I remember every time I heard the tune in the movie, it feels like everything start all over again. That it's a new beginning again.
October 26
I know you suggest noon first. But we agreed on 3 pm every day eventually.
3 o'clock. In the Hong Kong movie Born to be wild(?), the time on the clock is always 3 o'clock. I'm not sure if it's really the case. But my friend told me so. He said it's because it's neither day nor night (3 pm) or night nor day (3 am). Time in between.
For my 3 pm photo assignment everyday in Berlin, I'm usually in the middle of nowhere. It's when I have just finished my some kind of scheduled destination for the morning, while I haven't decided where to go next.
My father was a construction contractor and used to work in construction site. 3:15 pm is an important time for construction workers. It's their traditional time for tea break. Everybody stopped working at 3:15 pm. It's their sacred rule.
Finally, there are so many movies about love in the afternoon. In other words, casual love affair. Not meant to be serious, but usually turn disastrous.
October 27
I wanna stay inside but I end up taking long walks in the city.
I am overloaded with whatever they are.
I need some rest.
I send an e-mail to N. last night. She is in Sweden shooting a CD cover job.
'What would the pictures I took here look like?' I asked.
She would probably say, 'You.'
October 28
Shitty weather.
I walked through Mauerpark once again. It's already deep fall. When I was there on my first day here, it felt like summer.
Not too many days I would remember what the weather is like.
I remembered the day I got my A-level exam result, it rained like hell. I was on the taxi. You can't see anything outside. Radio was playing Danny Chan, who died a few years later.
I remembered the day I left New York in 1999. It had the most beautiful sky I've ever seen. Z. drove me to the airport. She bought her first house recently in Indiana.
I remembered the day I left Wuppertal. It also rained like hell. I took the taxi to the train station after midnight. That was the last time I really cried, as far as I can remember.
I remembered the day I arrived at my school in Taiwan. It was freezing cold. I trembled like a dying bird. And the fog enveloped everything. I was 19. The fog hardly went away. Half of the time when I was in Taiwan, I can't see anything far away.
I hope tomorrow would be a nice sunny day.
October 29
This is my last day in Berlin. So does my e-mail story.
Thank you for listening for the last 20 days. I always feel this trip is between me and the cities. It's a nice treat to have an audience.
I hope you have a nice ride too.
Thanks again. Until then. Take good care of yourself.
S.