Cafe (Tai Hang Tung Estate大坑東邨)

Earth from the Moon

Ice in the tall glass cloaked with cola jostles bubbles of fizz, and I feel this heat tell only the hard wood under my tail-bone. The TV is mute: it addresses the room graphically, in fluent Chinese characters, beneath perfectly made-up faces lip-reading “facts” and “news”. The kitchen, for its few orders, roars industrially out of the wok, while — in the centre of his Imaginary Lounge Room — a man chats through a smart hair-cut deeper into the mirror of his private booth.

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