Yuwei Gou, Visiting Scholar, University of Kelaniya, Colombo
They say we walk to find ourselves, to map out pieces of life that reflect who we are.
But I walk to undo the self. The more I walked, the more I lost myself into multiple selves that became estranged from me.
The more I walked, the more I disappeared into the surroundings I walked through.
- Barefoot in Norwood High’s Oval
I stood in Norwood High’s Oval. It was early morning.
A streak of blue diamond light slowly crackled above the horizon, waking up the greyish sky. My bare feet pressed against the prickly grass. I began walking, letting them lightly shuffle through the dewy blades. The touch felt so elemental and refreshing. A little bit cold.
I was amazed to see a double rainbow hanging on the left half of the sky. It gave me a girlish freshness and pure joy. For a city dweller who had been living in the concrete jungle of a Chinese town for many years, it was such a wonder to have a double rainbow decorating a private morning walk.
I knew I did not belong here. Yet I felt very settled, as if I had been living there for many lifetimes. I was alone but fully content. I knew something—like the rainbow, light, feathery, untouchable but miraculous—might happen. I knew I would have a period of stolen life to do something different. From that serene morning, at least five years in front of me felt secured: years to be away from my hometown, away from a normal life.
2. Walking, to your house, Adelaide, October 2018
That night, I skipped a concert in Elder Hall.
I turned left, decided to walk to your house.
I squatted, outside your door-
Only the door light above me, on and off, on and off.
The parking area was bigger than I thought.
A shaft of light pierced into the quiet darkness.
It’s not your Audi. Another white car, different shape, never seen before.
It stopped outside your house, on the main road, hesitant to park.
On and off, the door light still flickered above my head.
In the yellow smoky air, the car lights kept piercing through the dark.
I vaguely saw a woman’s silhouette in the driver’s seat.
Two women outside your house!!!
In ten minutes, you would drive your Audi back.
Next day, I walked my body to Norwood,
The sky looked distorted.
3. Sunset in elsewhere
You said the sunset is stunning in my world,
I disbelieve it.
I’ve been so familiar with it,
I walk here every dusk,
The rare wonder has lost its magic.
4. Walk in an early morning on campus, Chengdu, March 2023
I often dream parallel dreams.
What if I stayed?
How did the seasons change in Adelaide? I seemed to have forgotten.
Here, winter has gone, so has the smoggy grey and humid gloom.
On a clear February morning,
dots of pink plum and pear blossoms,
suddenly flash their wings on the campus.
I dream another scene.
On a clear September morning,
pear blossoms grandly sprout in Henry Martin Square,
dreaming clouds having an explosion,
a silent orchestral of white.
5. Walk and Saw a War Jet, Chengdu, March 2023
A spring afternoon, sunny,
cherry blossoms drift in the air.
after days of humid gloom,
we finally had a white, blue sky.
I uplifted my head, I saw layers of newly spring green,
rays of sunlight falling from cracks within
Then I saw a war jet gliding across the sky—
droning, droning, droning,
grey, triangle-shaped.
Elderly people were dancing on the ground,
Children were making rainbow-like buddles from machine-gun toys,
Young couple took out phones and took photos of the jet,
I was the only one feeling nervous,
I was weird.
6. Changed moon at home—walking along the riverbank in my hometown.
Changing women: we begin again like the moon
Terry Tempest Williams (2012)
Do you know what has changed me?
It’s not love or hatred—nor pity or helplessness.
It’s the rough reality and trivial nuisances that draw me away from you, further and further, from that blue-golden world.
I am homesick in my hometown.
When I see trees cut down for complex construction, I feel my body bruise and tear.
When I see plastic bags piled into small mountains outside post-office shops, I worry—where will all this rubbish go? Into the earth, into our food, into our bodies?
When I am overwhelmed by crowds in the subway, everyone looks so depressed and numb, endlessly swiping at their phones; I feel so vacant.
Yes—I feel dread, ache, and alienation in my hometown. I feel anger. My parents and friends suggest, “Don’t bother yourself with small things.” But these things are not small. My body screams, and few people understand my pain and sickness.
I am homesick in my hometown.
Slower might be happier. More trees instead of shopping malls might be better. Less traffic and plastic packaging might be better… I can’t change it. I must witness my own change.
7. Keep walking! Colombo, August 2025
How tidy are the roads in Adelaide, clean and cold in affection.
How flat and broad are the roads in Chengdu. Too much burping noise from cars. Too speedy.
How chaotic are the roads in Colombo—a cacophony of cars, tuck-tucks, passengers, motorbikes. It’s a miracle to see them merge and find their own outlet.
I can easily walk into every destiny in every city I temporarily dwell,
I can walk out of it simultaneously.
Cut me into pieces of moments—let me be fleeting, flashing sparkles, mirroring only a possible me at the only moment.
Or thousands of me,
Walking in it, walking out of it.
Yuwei Gou
Acknowledgements: I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Dr. Amelia Walker, who trusted me and gave me the opportunity to share my writings with others.
About the author: Yuwei Gou lived in Adelaide, South Australia, for five years. She then returned to Chengdu, where she taught English at a local university. She is now based in Colombo, Sri Lanka.
Work cited:
Williams, T.T. (2012). When Women Were Birds, Fifty-Four Variations on Voice. Picador.