Time Washes Them Away
20221023 12:20-2:30
The weather forecast said it would rain heavily that day. An hour earlier, my tattoo artist friend Ying wrote words all over my body with black ink and cinnabar. She wrote quietly while I spoke in fragments: memories and scattered keywords, all about the good and bad experiences I’d lived through. She listened silently and kept writing.
Amongst all the words, I only requested two be written in cinnabar ink. “Love” on my left palm and “rage” on my right.
Then I went into the street and started. I spent the first hour standing by the roadside in a light drizzle.
A metro janitor passed by, nodded at me, gestured up and down toward my body, then walked away.
A young man stepped out of a café and asked if he could speak to me. He was from Tainan. He said life had been so comfortable lately that he couldn’t really feel joy anymore. He said if it were up to him, he’d replace “rage” on my right hand with “thought.” He was very sure that the heavy rain I was waiting for wouldn’t come before nightfall.
A woman was folding her umbrella beside me. I turned to her and asked if she thought it would rain. She said she didn’t know, probably not.
A couple passed by in matching outfits. They said they were from an educational organization called Life Academy. I told them I was waiting for rain. The woman’s voice suddenly doubled in volume, “Waiting for rain?” I said I wanted the rain to wash away the words on my body. She asked why. We talked for a bit, and she said she got it. We said goodbye.
An elderly woman walked by. I showed her my left palm and read aloud what was written there, “Love.” She nodded and echoed, “Love!”
Hua from Coffee Dumbo brought me a cup of hot water. It was such a sweet gesture.
In the second hour, the rain began to pour, and the wind picked up. I stretched my arms wide and cheered: Finally!
Raindrops blurred my vision. Once I was completely soaked, my body began to tremble uncontrollably. Clenching my jaw did nothing to stop it. I clenched my fists tightly, wiping away the water over and over, hoping those two words wouldn’t smear.
A FoodPanda delivery guy rode by and said, “You're dope.” He took a photo, and after I explained that the written words symbolized all my past experiences, he said, “Stay strong, keep going.”
It was so cold. I looked up and locked eyes with a girl at the second-floor restaurant window across the street. I raised my left hand to show her the “love” in my palm, though I wasn’t sure if the word was still visible. She waved back.
A woman approached from the left. When she reached my 11 o’clock, she said, “Very cold.” When she walked past my 2 o’clock, she added “Very good.” A few steps later, she turned back, and I thought she’d add a third “Very” something. But instead, she said, “If you were my daughter, I’d be so heartbroken.” Then she walked away. I don’t know what I was feeling, but I cried.
A phrase suddenly came to me: “In that moment, you’re just a stone.” As I heard myself say it, I knelt down into the child’s pose in yoga, palms facing upward.
A gentle boy who had just bought coffee at Dumbo came over and held an umbrella for me. I told him I wanted to endure this rain. He offered me his white vest. I refused, afraid of staining it. He said it was fine, “You can return it to me if fate allows.” He left the vest at the café for me to use later.
The night before, I stood in the shower, watching water stream over the tattoo beneath my left collarbone. It bears the name of the friend I loved most, the one most dear to me. These two “mosts” are fixed forever—there is no longer any chance of change. You will never be surpassed in this life. I didn’t know which words on my body would remain after the rain, and which would vanish without a trace. But I knew you would still be there, on my collarbone and in my heart. You had already grown into my very flesh.
This performance is for you, my best friend.
The rain lightened back to drizzle. My photographer Nicky said my lips were turning purple, so he bought me a chocolate bar. After I ate it, the rain nearly stopped.
A staff member from the restaurant across the street, who had waved to offer me an umbrella earlier, came over and asked what I was doing. She was still a student, working part-time on weekends. I promised to visit and chat next weekend.
All the words in my hands had been washed away. “Love” disappeared first. Then “rage” slowly faded too.
A few days after the rain, I found myself in a state of unfamiliar calm. I still felt sadness, anger, joy—but none of it could shake me anymore. I still wandered and held onto the world, but I had turned from water into stone.
Special thanks to: Ying for the writing, Nicky Lee and Hua for documenting the performance.
