i walked around hong kong tonight feeling calm and peaceful. i walked three hours without stopping letting myself to be led by my legs without thinking. i feel as if i know the city. as if it lets me on its secrets it whispers it hums and it lets me listen without interruption. kilometers of streets and districts, each more familiar than the previous one. stopping for a cup of coffee made me realize that i have my own barista at four different starbucks. each period is being served a different type of coffee and lately i’ve found myself drinking only hot vanilla latte. but i’ve been thinking about vietnam a lot so i ordered caramel macchiato. a drink we drank every morning and evening for six days straight without skipping. i like having small insignificant traditions, which have a memory attached to them. but sometimes there are just burden.
i thought of the summer two years ago while walking star avenue having been reminded of a friend whom i haven’t seen for just as long. i wrote a letter to him just a few nights ago. i couldn’t sleep. i couldn’t write anything else. and tonight for the first time i actually thought of him. it’s strange how people disappear. it’s strange how we lose each other without saying goodbye because you never really know when the moment is going to come. the moment when you realize that we are gone. i wanted to watch elizabethtown but i couldn’t find it anywhere.
and the plague by albert camus — i prefer books written with a personal touch. the style of the plague, the chronology of events, descriptions of characters and places somehow prevent me from actually losing myself in the book. i read but i still notice the world around me. i can never like the book if i am not absolutely absorbed by it. but camus is not the only instance of me being unable to drift away. i wake up not remembering my dreams not knowing whether i was dreaming at all. three o’clock in the morning is the devil’s hour and i wonder why i am always conscious of this hour.