I am asking questions.
What if? What next? When? Why? With whom? Where?
Did I miss the mark? Can I catch up? Does it matter? Will I ever know?
Life is a collections of scraps. Memories. Wishes, Considerations and contemplations. Possibilties, plans and permutations. How we curate them alters the story we tell ourselves.
Had I lived in Kowloon, there would have been silks and sampans, airconditioners on the outsides of buildings and letters home. There would have been trails of incense in temples, hikes to giant buddahs nestled in mountains, apartment-dodging flights into the old Kai Tak. There would have been longan fruit, Star Ferries and tai chi in the park.
Maybe, next year, a year later than that, there will be.