Sand and oysters

Yesterday I travelled down Nathan Street in the old double decker bus to Hong Kong bay. A majestic although somewhat daunting view of the metropolis on Hong Kong island. The bay is a weary green with small boats plucking old plastic and a large dredge taking stinky sludge-mud from the bottom.

I travelled with Sam and Liam, two young guys from Ohio and Missouri. We also walked back fromthe harbour to the uni, wending our way through the old streets full of 1950s style buildings that are decaying. The old man selling his newly butchering pork allowed a quick photo, while the young butcher over the road boned the leg or pork with his unfiltered cigarette dangling from the lips, his ash growing longer. The streets shiver with sweaty life and its scent will cling to you, cling to your knife [that's from a Carol Anne Duffy poem].

An old woman drags garbage out of one of the streets under the air conditioners that weep rust, while we try and find our way back to the main road. No dogs or cats around that I see. maybe they live inthe better apartments across the bay.

The temperature is about 30 and the humidity is about 80 per cent. Good for the sweat.

Right now I'm going back tot he room to watch Wong Kar-Wai's Fallen Angels. I'll leave you with another piece. this is from Robert Friost:

I put it [the new moon] shining anywhere I please.

By walking slowly on some evening later

I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,

And brought it over glossy water, greater,

And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,

The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.

I'll walk back now. Through a thick steamy night. Creative irritants are what we find here.
[Sam and Liam buying fruit off Nathan Street, Hong Kong.]