June 7th , 2019 in Shanghai, China
H27 is a flat. Ryan’s flat. He lends us his walls, his furniture, and for one evening, we make his place ours.
To make room, we move the sofa around. We seep into the bed sheets, we mess up the cupboards, and we colonize the kitchen, where we concoct our own recipe. We refine our rituals, we lay the table, while in the other room fish lay their eggs. Considerate of the neighbors, we shut the windows only to open new ones. We take the laundry back inside, get the essentials delivered; the delivery man looks a lot like the man in the photo. We stir up our memories into the preparation. We move the shower, waiting for our turn in the bathroom. We settle in.
In this flat-sounding board, we spread the rumors of our Shanghai experience. After seven months of shared life, we have a housewarming party that takes on the air of a hotpot, a disparate broth with subtle flavors. From one room to another, one murmurs that it is just about to boil. These whispers echo in the corners to encounter, intertwine, and respond to one another.
