It was eight months ago I boarded the ‘Flying Hongkonger’, and we are not reaching the shore. I can’t remember how I got on the ship. It seems that I was already in this cabin when I woke up. The time here is chaotic. The bearing and heading are blurred. The only thing that keeps me awake is the writing of this Logbook.
Sometimes I can’t speak, pictures help me record; sometimes the image and memory betray me, the blank proves the existence of time.
Yesterday morning I saw the ghost of a friend from afar(Let's call her Z). She looked so painful that we all cried.
Today we built a barricade with branches and protested against happiness: "WE NEED SADNESS!"
