Writing on my Own

Portrait of Modernity as an Old Man (Thanks, Tianya)

Productive day of writing on my own. I'll share a snippet of a portrait of Yang Jiang's Gatekeeper:

"I am the gatekeeper of the Yang household of Temple Lane. My name is Zhao Peirong. That's ‘Zhao’ 趙; ‘Zhao’ spelled with with a ‘xiao’ 肖 and a ‘zou’ 走.”
To this day his voice is still in my ears...He was in his fifties, thin, and of medium build. His back was slightly hunched, and his face was long and narrow. Hanging off the sides of his mouth was one of those mustaches in the shape of a ba 八, the strokes of the ba trailing off in a downward hang. He walked with the slow steps of an old person, or a scholar. When he spoke, his mouth always carried a certain smile, the lips pursed as if he were about to make an apology. And then he would always begin by saying "Zhege, zhege..." (this, this...), which with his Antown accent came out as "Guoge, shige..."

Tomorrow: finish "Remembering My Father," talk with SC, revising the Yang Bi essay.