Footwork from three Southern Chinese Hung Kuen forms
I start training at 5 am most mornings in a Park. Spending up to two hours repeating the same forms over and over again. This weekend I am in Hong Kong competing in a competition with other people who also spend their time repeating the same forms. We will all watch each other and judge every every step; eventually there will be a winner. Then we all say goodbye and go home.
These 3 forms represent a repeated physical action I have undertaken since a year ago. They are steeped in memory. Of being bitten by mosquitos, of freezing face hands and feet, of men screaming at 6 am, of squirrels running towards me in the dead of morning, crazed and blind, of cracked whips sounding like gun fire, of constant nausea, of the synchronised ladies moving to loud music, of the old man with rotten teeth showing me his two ended spear, of training along side the army, of being surrounded by mirrors, of being in quiet spaces, of the people practicing Tai Chi, of being on my own.