Macau
(Day 9 in government quarantine in Macau) Most afternoons, I sit as close to the window as I can and bathe in the sun. If I close my eyes, there is the illusion of being directly under it, outside. The boundaries are dissolving. In Parasite, sunlight penetrates onto the couple from the basement, dancing. My long nails a testament to the days passing. Have you been having vivid dreams? The nightstand clock skips ahead. I ask the government for a nail clipper. It’s too dangerous, they say. The Chinese are terrified of dying, my mother says. On the phone, J mentions skin hunger. I tell her my dreams are always about touch. That’s not true. I always wake up right before we touch. My dreams are about hunger. Boundaries dissolve. In the morning, I shut my eyes to try and go beyond that hunger. JinJin Xu is a writer and filmmaker from Shanghai. She is currently an MFA candidate and adjunct professor in Poetry at NYU. Inspired by FangFang’s Wuhan diaries, she has been keeping Pandemic Diaries here: https://tinyletter.com/jinjinx
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STAY HOME DIARYan online archive of diary entries by Asian artists and writers, recording our lives from March to April 2020. |