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Moving

"Last year I lived outside Hong Kong, way out past Kowloon, in the New Territories," he told me, "And we would sit on my roof and try to count the shooting stars."

I looked up from where we were standing.

"But now I live here downtown, and it's too goddamn busy," he yelled, "And what we do now is sit on the balcony and try to count the apartment lights as they go off."

We laughed. It is busy here. But when I lay my head on my pillow and look out of my bedroom window at the tall buildings of Hong Kong Island, I like that the lit windows of the narrow apartments are not always the same color. Many are yellow, or white, and then some are dull blue. I wait impatiently to relax, and lately it has taken me a long time to fall asleep. But after a while I feel happy watching those windows do nothing, as I wait for my thoughts to follow my body and slowly fall, and then disappear.

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