I feel like the guy in Lost in Translation. I feel like the guy in The Notebook. I feel like the guy in In The Mood For Love. I feel like the guy in 2046.
There was a point during my stay in Hong Kong that I wondered if I would feel like myself, or some semblance of what I thought I was. Then I thought, wah lao, damn cock lah! And I went out of the Wong Kar Wai flat, took the lift downstairs and shopped, ate, walked around, and mostly felt un-lost around Causeway Bay, Admiralty, Central and Lan Kwai Fong.
There were things to do: Helping the ex buy her accessories for her wedding costumes.
There were things to eat: An aunt in Hong Kong took me to dinner, and it was one of those eat to death hotpot places.
There were people to meet: Cowboy Caleb was in town also, so we went and tried to drink Lan Kwai Fong dry, but the bugger cannot drink and neither can I; and there was Lucy my friend the bored housewife who doesn’t mind a drink or two.
Then there was the grandest, most beautiful wedding I have ever attended, and appropriately so.
Then in the cab on the way back to the ex’s apartment in Causeway Bay, everything looked like something from Chungking Express.
View from the shoebox apartment, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong. The ex held the lease for two more months so I could stay for six days last week and save money on a hotel room.
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