Sai Ying Pun, 6:15PM – Clear skies.
Entry 95
Comings and goings. The gardener has left for Taiwan where they were arrested upon arrival for too much gardening and not enough military service.
Just as suddenly as the gardener did, another person comes into my life, one that I have not seen since university. We catch up on the terrace of the imposter apartment. It is evening. We are surrounded by lights and suspended in hot air. So new this person is to our city, that they gasp at all the apartment windows which look like thousands of eyes unblinking. How nice it is to see someone see Hong Kong with fresh eyes.
Their partner will not be joining us because they have a family business to run and chicken to eat. A strict diet for being large and in charge. I am shown a photo. The partner is handsome and so we allow them to build this strict mold for themselves with which to conduct their life.
Speaking of diets, I have been juicing grapefruits lately. I am not sure what it is. I have never been a juicer per se. Speaking of molds, I use a plastic mold, not a blender. Mine is white, but when I was young I remember we used to have an orange one. My mother never used it. It was always at the back of a cabinet where the crockpot lived, looking lonely. You would not believe how many shapes these juicing molds come in. It is terrible because they come in that kind of sleek hard plastic that makes you love plastic even though we should really hate it. Why can’t plastic be better? Why can’t it just behave itself and decompose like every other self-respecting thing? Doesn’t it know that immortality almost always backfires?
I doubt there is a big demand for juicing molds. I remember the lonely juicing mold from my childhood. I think of orphans. Maybe I will start collecting juicing molds and then one day I’ll hang them all on a wall and have an exhibition. It will look like a multicolored night sky, if you take your glasses off, if you wear glasses. There will have to be a sign that says, “Please stand back,” so no one gets pushed into the wall. Or maybe that could be the whole point.
It turns out my friend’s partner is half-Chinese half-Armenian. Grapefruits are half-pomelo half-orange. (Well, history is slightly more complicated than that). And, despite that commonality, one thing is for sure, I will only be juicing grapefruits.