hk (i)

This summer I was in the city of my childhood for almost three weeks, sweating in all ways: slowly, immediately, consistently. I wasn’t sure how to feel, which is normal for me, but still dislocating. It was familiar and unfamiliar in a way that was different than when I was here in 2010-2011. Same things in my heart: my green hills, walking alone with my thoughts, nightly fishermen, closeness to family. But nothing was new or startling this time, and I almost grew impatient with my aloneness. Still: visits with my grandfather, listening to him talk about his life after “Liberation”; an afternoon exploring the multifold levels and alleys hidden and winding beyond the Escalator; a ride on the ding-ding che to the end of the line, just to see; morning hike through the hills of southern Lantau island amidst all its subtropical folds and thriving insect life (there were spiders as big as my face); local news on TV and lawyers debating over the “white paper”; July 1, which is always a swell of emotion and complexity; ferry to the smallest island because I hadn’t yet been there; my favorite nighttime path by the water in Tung Chung; the sky darkening and lightening with fickle rainfall…

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