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Sunday, Jan. 23, 2011 12:44 a.m. I took two pics on Woolwich and decided that I wouldn't have enough time for the next location, so I went back to the city, wandered around Brick Lane, and then decided I should not insist to walk around anymore but go to the museum to hea for the rest of the evening. So there I was, reading a book I brought along with me, but my mind drifted away sometimes when I tried to think about what to do with the photos I took. When I stood up again I found my feet were incredibly tired - the exhaustion was so overwhelming that for a moment I thought I had no reason to walk so hard these days. It is hard to visit different suburbs since transport is tricky. It is quite depressing to walk in them although I must admit that some places are pretty (but on the boring side), but I guess I know why I am always attracted to the periphery of the city. This is probably due to a romanticizing of the border, a deep-rooted notion of a romantic, poetic land's end. The suburb is no different from the desert. The extreme homogeneity of landscape will strip you bare. Being a stranger from another culture, another continent, what am I doing there? What, can I possibly do there? The answer is, there is nothing I can do and I have no reason to go there. In the suburb, one's identity has become ambiguous. The only thing I have is my existence. 另外原來我早兩個月已經在書店見過Christoph Niemann（前幾個entry轉貼Let it Dough那位）的書，當時用電話記下了作者名稱，書名I (Lego heart) N. Y.，關於紐約。 http://www.christophniemann.com
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