Happiness on the Yellow Peninsula


Dear Eugene,

In the beginning
A brush of paint
Water retained
Life possible

 You take a side
I take mine
Let's compare mythologies

 Divide and thrive
Your motto
Heed the boundary between life and death
Let not tomorrow encroach upon today
The final sentence stayed
Island people
Happy

 I look over the yellow fence
In silence

Yours, Alex

Comments

  1. KateSeptember 28, 2018 at 5:11 PM

    Dear Eugene,

    “In the beginning/ A brush of paint/ Water retained/ Life possible… Let not tomorrow encroach upon today/ The final sentence stayed/ Island people/ Happy…”

    Several years ago at a dinner banquet in China, I was among the happy guests surrounding an island of food in a private section adjacent to 2 other rooms with similar feasting. Mr V, our elderly host in his most vigorous state of wisdom & supreme health, had arranged this night to celebrate the success of his factory operations with his adult son & core staff including my in-laws’ family. Through a labyrinth of formalities, I was invited to this restaurant an ocean distant from my apartment rental home.

    Up close, platters in opulence were presented to the diners, each delicacy obsessively weighed & circumscribed within its island of flavors. In offscreen space, the chefs whose faces I had never seen must have passionately swept their brushes of paint in sparkling spices & marinade across the culinary canvas. Cleavers marked the boundary between life & death for lobsters, Peking ducks & other flesh with their blood & spit emulsified in soup: water retained, life possible in every morsel of bite to delight the heart craving for bigger bites of life, tongue & teeth locked in a peninsula of happiness over luxury consumed.

    Can you isolate, encapsulate happiness for feeding?

    The motto saturating the banquet hall that night would have affirmed this mythology. In the beginning, Mr. V, the Crown of the table, had identified & packaged happiness into extraordinary bites of fortune for the seated many whose livelihoods must not be encroached by any yellow paint or boundary. His luxuriant touch & massive appetite in sales were the final sentence necessary to ensure island people happy in this side of the fence. No need to look beyond this fence. Happiness on the yellow peninsula is sacred.

    At the end of the banquet, I left feeling hungrier than when I had 1st arrived.

    Then about 3-4 years later, I was told Mr. V had died & his factories shut. I look over the yellow fence. In silence.

    Yours, Kate

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