Sai Wan Ho

the kids' playground, branches fanning out above the swings, leaves fallen by the slide; the cinema museum we'd always walk past, visiting only once and understanding only three-quarters; the morbid fascination i always held for the wet market; the little bun shop, mak's noodle, and the now-closed place we'd always get sweet tofu at. crying silently in the laundry room, seeing joggers float past in neons and fishermen wait by their still rods as the sun set, and cacti bloomed quietly on the balcony - pieces of my heart will always remain in sai wan ho.