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Kung Fu Planes
Kachun Lay / 60 min

White T-shirt, black pants and my black hair set up in a bun,
I sit on my knees in front of a table.
There's a pile of blank paper, satin ribbons and a roll of tape.
Short ribbons of different colours: mint-green, red, golden-yellow and purple.
In my culture, these colours are considered as "royal".

I focus on my task, my task is to fold. Fold the papers.
To produce something, to produce airplanes.
To produce, produce, produce.

I focus on the planes, every plane is the same,
though every plane is different.

They get one coloured ribbon each,
but it's only until the number of 8 I reach.
Then it's time to send them away, one at the time.
8 is a lucky number in my culture,
hoping that they'll fly like a vulture.

I focus on every throw,
like in kung fu I put up a show.
Posing, focusing, breathing and sending.
Kung fu means also work,
not only punching, kicking and air bending.
Through the room most of them fly,
but a few had to crash and die.

When I'm out I repeat the task again, again and again.
In the end, I collected them.
Just to send them back where it all began.