I knew very well we’d never be friends or confidants. We had too many chances to rub elbows in the past. We rubbed elbows till our clothes tore, but still no sparks.
- Fallen Angels (Chinese film)
There’s a street in Hong Kong - Kowloon I think - where 3 million people pass through everyday. 3, 000, 000 people bumping into, brushing pass and rubbing elbows with one other. Millions of rush-hour-driven, overly-caffeinated drones fighting to get from point A to B as if there were no other letters in the alphabet. Three million men and women determined to remain strangers with everyone between them and their destination. 3 million anonymous’s concerned with nothing else but their spm (strides per minute). Sometimes u wonder: how do people meet? Im a new yorker. I know how it feels. I live for it. There’s only one place where a man can feel lonely in an endless crowd… the modern city.
we meet thousands of people in our lives. Some of them we rub elbows with until our clothes tear… but even then we fail to create a spark. And then there’s those people who you hardly graze, the ones you accidentally run into that ignites a flame. Somewhere on your way to point B you randomely find the people that make u want to stray off to Z. They say spontaneous combustion is a myth.
I’d like to think otherwise.
I’d like to think otherwise.
