In two thousand and eight I took a taxi from a city hotel to the airport in the early hours of the morning. As the car veered toward the edge of the city I noticed an old man walking under bright lights. Immediately, I was struck by the image and till this day it remains vividly in  my mind. I remember scribbling a few lines in a note-book as the car sped onwards.

Today I discovered amongst other discarded pieces, several lines of verse penned hastily in simple rhyme, on the occasion. I was tempted to work the words a bit but decided to leave them as a spontaneous response to a haunting image. I wonder what happened to the old man?

He shuffles along with his large hessian bag,

His hips walking crooked, his head at a sag,

He seems out-of-place, in the bright flourescent light,

The old man in contrast to the sounds of the night!

Hong Kong bustling, noisy and loud,

Tourists, locals all part of the crowd,

But, non of this matters if your feet are bare,

The old man shuffles, will anybody care?