butterfly hotel on morrison rd., causeway bay. sometimes at nights, after i got tired of walking, chasing the time, reading books, i'd just sit there by the window of this small room drinking coffee and listening to bud powell. watching. watching the flats on the opposite side of the road. sometimes i'd try to take a peek into one of the windows with curtains opened. the rooms were bathed in beige lights—or was it probably the color of the wall? je ne savais pas. i thought of the lives they lived. the events in their lives i could only imagine.
SOON
thank you 
