A City of Festivals

This land is a city of festivals, festivals of ethnical, cultural, religious, commercial and political origins. Unfortunately, some people just don’t enjoy them and I am a member of this hidden minority.

“Having said that, there’s a festival which still fascinates me.”
“What is it?”
“The Ghost Festival of course!”
“Gee! Morbid!”
“Well, your reaction doesn’t surprise me.”

Red Spring Flowers

This was the early Friday morning of the twenty first day of March and I took a day off from work. I met Redcotton, the flower of the month, the first time this year.

Redcotton, don’t you know you’re on the spot right now?

What do you mean?

Well, you’re everywhere, along the roads, at midlevel, in the parks, among the concrete blocks, in every photo blog and even next to the sewage ditch here!

The Ending Road

The person is...

And he walks his life...
But he doesn't know when, where and how the road ends.

人生路　美夢似路長

路裡風霜　風霜撲面乾

紅塵裡　美夢有幾多方向

找痴痴夢幻中心愛　路隨人茫茫

人生是　美夢與熱望

夢裡依稀　依稀有淚光

何從何去　去覓我心中方向

風彷彿在夢中輕嘆　路和人茫茫

Memorial Service

It was about ten days before last Christmas. Pam called me at work.

“Hey, you’re clinical mate!” Pam remarked in her typical simple-hearted tune half way through the conversation. “That’s alright, we can find another time. You treat me though…an expensive one, huh?”
 

“No problem!... Me clinical?”
 

“Ooh!... Yesss! That’s for sure!” She said as if it was a matter of fact. “By the way, he’s coming too and he said it would be his memorial service as well, ha…ha…ha… Are you sure you’re not coming this Friday evening?” She laughed hysterically.