On (the persistence of) memory

 When my mother died, I was very young,

And my father sold me while yet my tongue

Could scarcely cry ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep!’ 

So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

I love you Mr William Blake,

Now I know why I remember China so dark –

julie 超辣

Determined dreamer. Published author in English, Dutch, and Chinese. Former People’s Liberation Army (PLA) captain turned artist entrepreneur and screenwriter. She survived the Cultural Revolution as a baby. In the 1990’s she left for London and has lived and worked in free exile ever since. Her work covers a wide spectrum. As journalist, she creates content covering a range of topics on contemporary China from an insider perspective. In 2008, during the Beijing Olympics, she hosted a 5-episode talk show TV China for Netherlands’ national broadcaster and discussed China’s media landscape with media stars and experts from both China and the Netherlands. From 2013-2016 she was the Editor-in-Chief of the English/Chinese bilingual magazine XiN 新, focusing on today’s China shaped by consumerism. O’yang contributes a weekly column to Hoje Macau on contemporary Chinese art and culture. Her English language book titles include: Butterfly, a historical crime love story set in the Second World War. Since May 2016 O'yang has been collaborating with Flemish photographer Filip Naudts on an art project, which has resulted in the photo novel The Picture of Dorya Glenn. Julie works from the Netherlands and Denmark.

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  1. Brat Payal says:

    On Julie! Father, daughter n unholy sin…love the pic..artist??

    1. Salvador Dali’s the Persistence of Time:)

  2. Ja! It is very close to me:

    No illusions!
    No delusions!

    We knew only the Truth of Destruction!
    We – Over! … and my one-legged
    father taught me only how to kill:

    kill Buddha!
    kill Christ!
    kill Hitler!
    kill yourself!

    my mother – Nothing, but older
    and more sorrowful …

    my father – Nobody, but more merciless
    and sadder …

    Look: my daughter goes from Emptiness
    to Emptiness in order to kill every tear
    before her birth:

    And now Absence doesn’t cry anymore,
    Emptiness doesn’t spend any more money
    on funerals –

    that’s the Truth of Non-existence!

    “Nothing” is my mother –
    “Nobody” is my father –
    and there are no tears between


    1. Thank you for the spunky lines, Zarathustra!

  3. Brat P says:

    Dedicate my”tea” to this…:)

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