I cannot stop and I will not stop. I fell in love with the city and a feeling of lovesickness stuck. It feels like there is a force that keeps bringing me back to it. My thoughts go in circles and I always arrive at the same point again. I long for the dirt, the noise, the food, the architecture and the people of Hong Kong.
What once must have been a colourful dream has turned into a dirty pastel coloured cityscape. Every time, I turn my head something new is to be discovered whether it’s the golden hour lights reflected by dirty windows, three dozens of aircons on grey walls or just another neon sign the size of my living room.
One could most likely wander around Tsim Sha Tsui for days without getting sick of it. Watching ferry after ferry coming into the harbour, tourists and locals alike leaving the ferry so that a new mass of tourists and locals can board the same ferry to go to Hong Kong island. A couple hundred meters into the city there is another spectacle to witness; the colourful minibuses used for public transport are fighting their way through the streets, nearly colliding with each other, all on a mission to get to the next place.
Finally, after the sheer overwhelming amount of things to see, ordinary moments to experience, I arrived at the doorstep of Man Mo Temple. The peace and quiet not only fills the temple grounds but myself, too. From one second to the next, the hectic atmosphere of the city is forgotten and all I can sense is the distinctive smell of incense sticks and the quietness, god the quietness of the place how it amazes me, that fills the room.
The short break is almost immediately forgotten again, once I step out of the temple and into the burning sunshine.