Lorraine and I

I took this ^-^

Unfortunately, no stars :(

Random Thoughts

We all hold a pocketful of stars. Indirect transmissions from the surface of the stars broadcast in millimeter waves, spreading their brilliant light like summer linen. It goes up and it comes right back down. Then, it runs through you, holding tight to the cracks and creases of your pocket. And the best thing is- it’ll always be there when you need some sort of warmth or tranquility.

Lady at Starbucks

I like to study the faces of elderly people. Their wrinkles sometimes remind me of one of those atlas maps that have all the little lines that connect towns and cities. Most people want to get rid of their wrinkles so they ll look younger but I think there are other reasons too. Maybe they re afraid someone would be able to tell too much about them just by observing. If you practice you can read those creases just like the lines in the atlas. You can tell a lot about what a person has experienced what they have done, how they relate to others, whether their life has been happy or not. I see lots of women in the city whose faces look like masks from plastic surgery. They must know whatever they re doing isn t making them look any younger. They re just hiding their lives behind a mask.

I sat at Starbucks next to an old lady. This lady has lots of wrinkles all over her face. A lifetime of lines cross from the edges of her eyes to her cheekbones to the bridge of her nose to the corners of her mouth. The lines don t seem like a heavy weight for her to carry though. Somehow, there s still a feeling about her that reminds me of when you first open presents on Christmas morning that expectancy, that same kind of joy. I m sure she s around eighty years old. I wonder how it feels to live all those years and still wake up looking for a happy surprise around the next corner. Maybe being loved a long time does that to a person.

The city & the restaurant

The City

People were walking down the busy streets, cradling their cell phones, and J-walking across traffic. Cell phones were ringing from all directions and horns were blaring. The faces of the people in business suits become ghostly blurs of long shadows, rushing past like a continuous canal of light. The train, screeching through the reverberating strip of Central, Hong Kong, left a vapory trail of immaculate rhythm.

When the stars came, for a moment, the night was still. I watched the stars as the cars rushed swiftly and rapidly under them. The city, with its ongoing traffic, crowdedness, noise pollution, made the stars that were quiet and dim suddenly appealing.


Daddy's restaurant

It’s funny. When I’m at home, I hate dinner clean-up, but at my father's restaurant I don’t mind it at all. At the beginning, I thought it was because I was getting paid for the time, but then I realized that wasn’t it at all. ^-^ Some people believe you leave your energy on everything you touch. I wonder if that’s true. When I wash off the plates, I think about the people who were there earlier in the evening. I try to remember what they ate and snippets of their conversations that I overheard. I get ideas for my stories that way. Most of the time people who come here are in a relaxed mood so their conversations are fun.

One night when I was here by myself a few months ago, a young couple came in and they were fighting. She was angry because he had flirted with someone else. He denied it, but he did look guilty. She stormed out of my dad's restaurant and for a few minutes he didn’t know what to do with himself. He sat there bent over his drink and looked out the window for a long time. I think he was hoping she would come back, but she didn’t. I was thinking about them later that night when I washed off the plates they’d been using. I put each plate into a different dishwasher. I know it’s silly, but right before I ran the dishwashers I found the girl’s plate and put it next to the guy’s plate in the same dishwasher. I wonder if they ever got back together.