Don't judge me, I was hungry...
I have a hazy, distant memory of stuffing my face at a buffet at a hotel in China. After, when we were walking down the stairs, live music greeted us. A pianist played smoothly while a "pretty woman" (said in Cantonese by a girl in the group as "liang lui") was singing in clearly enunciated, near-perfect English. She was singing to almost no audience as the hotel was near-empty on a Thursday night, which made me romantically recall this time. Currently, I am writing for almost no one and mostly for the joy of myself.
This made me wonder, glistening, neon metropolis, how you can have a time and place of such emptiness and loneliness for reflection, in a city of millions of people? China is both poor and wealthy. I wanted to stay and listen, but that would be awkward, and we had to part.
Lonely night
