It felt like I was just waking up. I shook my head. I looked at my surroundings. A boxing ring. People cheering. Is there an ape in the crowd?
Who am I?
I'm German. I'm a boxer. People are expecting something from me. Act German.
I did a militaristic dance, taking no joy in it like I might once have. I knew my opponent. We had been in the ring before.
He beat me then, I knew he'd beat me now.
I shouted something in German. I knew no one would understand me. It didn't matter. I went into the...
A steady rain poured outside to her left. On her right, the family had gathered for a special dinner. They sat quietly, watching the girl make the biggest decision of her life. Would she stay with them and eat, or run headlong into the wet streets of the city?
She had one reason to remain, and one reason to leave.
Both compelled her greatly.
Her father had been sick for a year. This dinner was to celebrate his good health. He always called her his little red devil, for she was mischievous and always wore something red, every day.
She...
This girl was smokin' hot and carried an umbrella that matched her gown. She was on her way to a sumo wrestling match between her husband, Xiao and his enemy, Chan. She was worried for her significant other, for he has been training for this match for his entire life -- this was his one moment to prove himself in the ring. For weeks, she watched Xiao drink eggs for breakfast and squats before bed. That said, she was confident that he would prove himself. She was confident that his training was enough to overtake his enemy.
She finally reached...
She was twelve years old and had blood red lipstick. Her face was flushed and her hair tangled. She knelt at the bottom of the door frame, holding her red gown to her shoulders so that it wouldn't slip off.
Her father would pick her up soon. Relish over the money he made today. Not ask her how her day was. Ignore her fidgeting and discomfort. As long as she kept her customers satisfied, her dad was satisfied. Or rather, his drinking addiction was satisfied.
She wrapped her arms tighter around her legs. Someday she would get out. Someday she...
The idea is to create a false memory. Get a pretty model, blur the edges, overexpose the film. You can also create that overexposure effect digitally. Have her smiling, playing. Give her something that evokes childhood. Red balloon. No, we don't want to be cliche. Green balloon. And make sure there's an overriding color scheme. Green. We don't see a background - nothing but light on the horizon. This is memory, and memory is supposed to consist of overreliance on symbols, strong images, single focal points. That was the summer when...
We hire the model. She's angry and unhappy the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She thought red would be more appropriate than black. After all, she wasn't going to the funeral. She would have her own at home, remembering him as he was a week ago right there with her. He had greeted her where she now sat, kissed her blushing birdstone cheek. He was handsome then, his black hair like starling feathers nestled against her as they embraced.
But now it was time to think of those who had died. Not just him, but all the pantheon of people...
It's not easy being funny.
People expect things of you. They come to you down in the mouth, looking for a laugh. Most of the time you can oblige them, but it's hard creating something from nothing. I'm not a music box that you can wind up and expect to hear a tune. At least say "please."
I guess it comes from watching too much television. Sitcoms really mold a kid who spends half his day on the couch. That, and a willingness to tell the truth to people's faces.
Anyway, it's easy to ask for a laugh. It's just...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Like it had been ever since the Chinese industrial 'revolution', it was smoggy and grey. She stared off into the limited distance, trying to peer beyond all the smog.
"Where's mother?" A voice came from behind her.
"Oh, you know the answer to that, Chang'e," she replied. "Go ask dad. I'm sure that he'll say what he's always said."
"What's that?" she asked.
"You're so forgetful..." the girl mumbled.
"But you are too!" said Chang'e. "I bet you don't even remember what father said to you...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. The doorway was not the kind of doorway best suited to huddling, and the gown appeared equally ill-designed for the purpose. Yet huddle she did. The rain dripped and sputtered from the sky, streaking her scarlet back as it fell.
After a time, she carefully unhuddled and picked up the bag that she had lain down beside her. She withdrew from it a small, glass orb, in which indistinct shapes and colours seemed to float. Lightning flashed briefly across the sky and as she held the...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. It had been an hour since the torrential downpour started. It was only a matter of time before she realized that she would not make it to her own wedding and so she closed her eyes and concentrated very hard. Blood began to trickle from her delicate nose, sullying her piercing white make-up. As so, crows' feet around her eyes displayed her delicate skin underneath. The rain started to lighten gradually and the street seemed to get brighter second by second, inch by inch. The rain...