At the Hong Kong Space Museum, there was a display of an ecosphere, untouched for over fifteen years. Dan was so sure nothing was alive in there, but - one by one - tiny shrimp-like creatures shot up from the murky bottom toward the branch-filled center, pressing their tiny bodies against the glass, as if they were the ones looking at us.
On Saturday, we jumped on a ferry without knowing where we were going and ended up at Peng Chau, a small island near Lantau. We walked along the coast of the island and climbed down to the rocky, garbage littered shore. There, we sat on a washed up log and threw in pumice stones to see if they would float (of course they did) and waited for the tide to bring the stones back. Dan found a small crab; it fit in the palm of his hand. My first reaction was to run away. Not because I was afraid of it, but because the only thing I could think was: My god, it's alive.
We walked to the point of the island where two ends meet. The wind was strongest there and I could barely see. There's a large rock at the point, in the shape of a fist. Then we continued on and found gravesites/memorials and a straw hat settled among the tree tops. Wild dogs barked at us and there was the sound of bamboo knocking in the wind all around us (like the knocking of doors). Abandoned houses filled with tangled tree limbs led the way to a small village where villagers hung fish upside down on poles to dry. Most doors were left open. I felt so intimate, turning to look inside these homes - watching an old man heat his dinner or watching a woman cry as her son lifts her up from a wheelchair. It made me think how many people have watched me during moments like these. Not long ago, I was crying in the elevator (I was sea sick) and there was a woman beside me, not sure of what to do - put her hands in her pocket, turn away, or reach out to me.
On Saturday, we jumped on a ferry without knowing where we were going and ended up at Peng Chau, a small island near Lantau. We walked along the coast of the island and climbed down to the rocky, garbage littered shore. There, we sat on a washed up log and threw in pumice stones to see if they would float (of course they did) and waited for the tide to bring the stones back. Dan found a small crab; it fit in the palm of his hand. My first reaction was to run away. Not because I was afraid of it, but because the only thing I could think was: My god, it's alive.
We walked to the point of the island where two ends meet. The wind was strongest there and I could barely see. There's a large rock at the point, in the shape of a fist. Then we continued on and found gravesites/memorials and a straw hat settled among the tree tops. Wild dogs barked at us and there was the sound of bamboo knocking in the wind all around us (like the knocking of doors). Abandoned houses filled with tangled tree limbs led the way to a small village where villagers hung fish upside down on poles to dry. Most doors were left open. I felt so intimate, turning to look inside these homes - watching an old man heat his dinner or watching a woman cry as her son lifts her up from a wheelchair. It made me think how many people have watched me during moments like these. Not long ago, I was crying in the elevator (I was sea sick) and there was a woman beside me, not sure of what to do - put her hands in her pocket, turn away, or reach out to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment