taking a breath

Feeling a little homesick. My feet and calves are tight and terrible. There are too many people. I haven't seen the sky in two days. The noise is everywhere and the city will not let up. I gladly trade the buildings looming so high they disappear into a bank of cloud for an aquamarine sea, an aquamarine sky, and trees trees trees.

Despite all this, Hong Kong and Macau contain pockets of pure whimsy and light - a bird park full with caged birds of all breeds and colours, fishes swimming in aquariums inside a row of exotic fish shops, pastel coloured Spanish Baroque buildings on cobbled streets. It doesn't surprise me that all my favourite moments are contained in the older, more run-down parts of the city where old men roam the streets, bent over with canes, the malls are far away, and the masses are elsewhere. There, I can breathe.