In April, I moved from Hong Kong to Toronto.
I have never felt so out of touch with myself and at the same time, present in how I am living my life. It has been a rollercoaster of depression and grief as I fumble over the past and present tense of my thoughts and memories.
Uprooting my life after losing someone is straight up the dumbest fucking thing I have done and I am only realising this 7 months later. I thought I was taking the easy way out by leaving it all behind, but really, I had left my entire support system. I feel completely stripped and the need to reinvent myself, so every feeling seems to contradict the other. The neurotic repressive side sees it as a completely logical thing to do. Stick to the plan. Shit happens. Meanwhile, the emotional side is quietly rolling its eyes because of well, an inevitable meltdown... In the form of a website...
Just kidding. But seriously.
I don't regret it, but I underestimated it. Realising you're truly not as strong as you've always believed is the most humanising experience. Vulnerability is a strength - we've all heard it before. I mean, shit, I gave a speech on it and I am still learning this lesson every day.
Toronto has somehow revealed all of its best people to me immediately and allowed me to feel loved. My cynicism tells me to be skeptical of it all as I wade through this heavy fog, but I probably, maybe, kind of love them too.
This 35mm diary is a way to stay shooting and re-connect with myself. Taking in everything that makes me stop in a new city until it becomes my reflex again. That's what I'm trying to do.