Poetic prose – Renegade Writings

Lion Head Mountain 8:03 am

Guanyin statues, hundreds of Guanyin statues arranged in neat rows down a series of terraces, right in the middle of the jungle. Their once white skin has turned grey and yellow with dust and mold. Some have started to crumble, fingers or whole hands falling off, halos collapsing down onto their heads, one has even been bisected, only her legs remain. The jungle has slowly started closing in, vines creeping up from below to ensnare a few of the statues; thick taro roots snaking along the terraces, their giant leaves sprouting up at irregular intervals; moss crawling across the concrete. A Buddhist chant comes rising up from a temple somewhere below, cranking up the ambiance to eleven. Two questions keep running through my mind as I explore: "what is this place? Why are they here?"

Alishan, Road 18, 3:41 pm

We come around the bend and the view opens up in front of us; distant peaks obscured by the haze, the mountain side dressed in pale greens and yellows – bamboo waving in the breeze like reeds – the mist comes rolling down the slope like water, spilling out as it hits the boxy structure of a man made tunnel – concrete and dark green moss – billowing into the air like smoke then swirling into the blue void. No time to take a photo, just a few moments until the road leads us into the gaping maw of the … Read the rest

April 7, 2024 0

In The Mist, 12:57 pm

After a number of switchbacks the road straightens up and in the distance ahead of us is a wall of mist. Along both sides of the road are cherry trees, their bright pink flowers clearly visible through the fog, the ground underneath scattered with petals. We take one last look at the cherry trees then plunge into the mist... A few minutes later we enter a tunnel that looks like something from a horror movie, all dark and gloomy with nothing but a milky white unknown at the other end. As we exist the tunnel the fog magically lifts and the world opens up in front of us. The road dips downwards again and starts winding it's way towards the bottom of the valley. On the other side the green hills rise up toward a sea of clouds, misty waves lapping the hill hilltop shores, and in the far distance a row of jagged blue peaks, faint against the sky. It only lasts for a few moments before the fog comes rolling in and shrouds our world in white once more.

February 6, 2023 0

Mountain Road 竹29, 3:57 pm

The road is narrow, barely more than a car’s breadth, nature closing in on both sides, a ribbon of cracked and broken asphalt zigzaging its way through the forest. In a car I’d be taking it slow here, but now I’m going as fast as I dare, leaning from corner to corner, fully focused on the road ahead. Shift down, counter steer, accelerate out of the corner, green trees whizzing by. Shift up for the straight, just a few seconds, patches of blue up above then eyes back to the tarmac, ease it down for the next corner. Just me, … Read the rest

December 2, 2021 0

Yangmei Station 7:53 am

The train doors open and the cold rushes in. With my seat right next to opposite door, almost straight in the path of the freezing wind, the cold hits me head on, washes over me from my feet all the way up to my head, clinging to me like a wet blanket. It's that special kind of cold that you only get in subtropical regions, that dampness the creeps in through your clothing and chills you through and through like nothing else can. Even the raw, biting cold of Sweden's frozen north doesn't feel as uncomfortable as this.

March 5, 2020 0

The Balcony, 12:08 am

I stand looking out over the seemingly sleeping city. There's a light breeze that makes it feel like the cold of the night air is creeping in through the gaps between my shirt buttons, and chill of the stone floor is seeping up through my socks. A new round of fireworks starts, I can hear the sharp cracks somewhere off to the right but they are hidden from view by the nearby buildings, all I can see is the colorful flashes of light on the surrounding facades. I stand there in the cold dark space of the balcony, the revelry and fireworks just on the edge of my consciousness, and feel that special kind of feeling that isn't quite loneliness but isn't really anything else either - clearing the mind from daily stresses and just absorbing the cool quite now, and yet, realizing somehow that you want to be where those unseen fireworks are. And that's the moment that I notice it, the fireworks are reflected on the windows of one of the buildings in the distance, the glass making the images ripple and become dreamy; a moment of beauty pierces my solitude and brings me back to reality. I listen to the fireworks for a few moments longer then let the cold drive me back indoors.

January 1, 2020 1

The collected writings of a Renegade Tourist

Tag Poetic prose