Maybe it was in the hug of Leo in Beijing, or in his eyes.
Maybe it was in the needles of the doctor that healed my body and touched my heart.
Maybe it was in the kisses of Gus in Shanghai and in the nights we spent together.
Maybe it was in the pray I raised on the top of the holy mountain.
Maybe it was in what I saw in the cave of the true sound of the Lotus Sutra in Putuoshan island or what the monks told me I am.
Maybe it was in the smile of that little girl in Lijiang that spent the evening with me understanding my solitude.
Maybe it was in the small hand of Milo that holded my hand to take me into the playroom.
Maybe it was in the caress of that boy in the stone forest.
Maybe it was the man appeared out of nowhere who told me the way to the ancient temple in Zhongdian.
Maybe it was in the relicts of Shakyamuni and in the ceremony of air.
Maybe it was in the middle of the sacrificial temple for the good harvest.
Maybe it was the homeless that saved my life I don't remeber where.

Maybe it was into the possibilities that I gave to myself.
To understand that love is possible.
To understand that I'm not alone.
To understand that I must not be afraid.
To understand that is useless to rush.
To understand that I must not replace people and emotions.
To understand that people are free to be stupid and bad and careless but are still precious.


The cancer, the virus, the blood, the body, der korper...
Thanks China, I'm happy to be here.