Hong Kong’s Emptiness Amidst its Clutter…


Hong Kong is about as incomplete and as empty as it is crowded. It’s a lot like the fate that brings you here — an incomplete scrabble of steel, concrete, haze and neon. Your life here is awash in brilliant colors, and soot.

It makes me think what I am made of, and why I am here….I’ve come to this conclusion:

For me, being here was about being lost and feeling the very pit of the angst I felt in being detached and separate from the things I know now that I need to survive.

When I am here, I am both torn by the grip of wanting something — anything — that would still an angry child in my head.
I see other people like this, too — very old men with beautiful, very young women, drunk and nodding heads on the table while they talk; people smoking with distracted stares; bright handbags, accessories, and the plaintive lips of cosmetic surgery and too-perfect muscle-missing thighs (a Korean plastic surgery trend is to cut out and remove a major muscle in the thigh to make them appear skinny).

Having been away for a while, and now back, I find I have what I need — love, self-respect, and a confirmed itinerary of goals I must achieve in my life, so that I can leave a better something for my better halves, whatever children I’ll be bringing into this world as I am making my way out.