Auld Lang Syne

Wednesday 11 November, after an exhaustive work day, I signed off at 7:45 pm. I finished the third dinner at the same fast food restaurant this week and quickly headed to the bus stop, hoping to get home before 9:30 pm.

As I dragged myself along with my mind miles away, I nearly tumbled onto an old man near a minibus stop. I stepped aside reflexively and stopped to ponder momentarily. The man, in his 70s, sat on the sidewalk with his legs apart and stared vacantly at the road. He was nearly bald with a thin layer of white hair on the side of his head. I could see only 2 or 3 teeth from his half opening mouth. His worn light blue towel shirt looked fairly clean under the blue quilted nylon jacket but his grey cotton tracksuit bottoms would need some washing. His tanned feet were chapped and silvery under the fluorescent lights. His nails were neatly contoured by black lines at the opening tip of his blue plastic slippers.

Red Bean Congee

It sounded meaningless but I reminded myself I must catch up some of the missed sleep when I switched off the lights at 3:21am.

After staring at the reflection of my face on the clock glass for more than three minutes, I decided to get up but worried that I was going to waste another day working at home.  The clock read 8:13am when I drew back the curtains to find a dull and wet Saturday morning. “That’s fine. At least the temperature’s a couple degrees lower than yesterday,” I reassured myself.

The Seedlings

Life and work were not so tough and chaotic before 2014. Many would argue that is because I had not lived a real life before that. I guess they may be correct but it does not really matter. Time gone is gone; life spent is spent. Regrets fuel sufferings; grievances only prolong failures – but who can resist them if we are honest to ourselves? So, the year passed like a city man treading through a marshland in his best suit. However, now looking back, I am amazed that it passed so fast. Regrets and grievances I still have some, but treasures and delights were also unearthed from the memories of my younger years and I have revived my affection for two long forgotten pastimes. One of them is potting plants.

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.