perfect day for bananafish

Because I wasn’t allowed to smoke in the MTR Station, I bought a can of UCC Coffee, and I leaned my back against the wall next to the 7-Eleven in the underground concourse of Central/HK Station.

And I started to fish.





Not that I was seeking any particular fish. Not that I had a hook or anything. But it feels awfully like fishing. See how they are all swimming along…

I suppose if one, standing there like me, holds up a sign saying, “looking for someone to have a coffee with,” one could fish a girlfriend out of this wide wide ocean.

Correction. This is merely the underground concourse of Central/HK Station. And in the photo, the people look more like marching robots. They are the programmed parts of a machine called ‘The Everybody’.

Idiots. Idiots. Idiots. Robots. Robots. Robots.

Am I too arrogant, stealing time to watch people like this, doing nothing, sipping coffee as though it’s the cool thing to do, being fashionably late for a rah-rah company party? How do I reconcile with the position of wanting to be a part of it while craving for the moments in which I can withdraw?



Man looks lonely when the other guy who had been next to him found his other half. Standing in that kind of posture, plastic bag in one hand, surely makes one look dejected. I assure you I was standing with a straight back and a balloon of confidence in my chest. Mind you, I was wearing my best suit. After all, I was dressed for my company’s rah-rah party.



That spot with the red sticker is where I was standing. One sole on the wall, one knee pointing out, a can of coffee in one hand. Not that I would smoke, even if the station allowed it.

The city is my amusement park. Admission is free. But behind this confidence, I am breathing thanks to all that I have been given. I don’t take any one moment for granted.