It was late afternoon and I was watching the sun go down across the harbor in Hong Kong. I loved this city. It was a witch's brew of culture, drama and excitement. If you were bored in Hong Kong then it was your own fault. Today I had attended a gallery exhibit opening for my niece, a young bohemian diva who found that the atmosphere here fueled her creative fires. While I cannot say that her paintings are to my taste, I do agree with her that nearly all types of creativity here are appreciated.
Her work tends to be angry slashes of red, black and deep purple on pristine white canvas. Sometimes there were tears and rips at odd angles. I told her that looking at her work made me feel that the canvas had been violated. She simply responded "Thank You."
I live across the border in Shenzhen, China. I moved there 8 months ago for reasons that have nothing at all to do with this story. Let's just say that I had finally found a place where my own creative desires and proclivities could also be explored and appreciated. I found an employer; really more of a sponsor, who paid me a handsome salary to make sure that his and his partner's international business interests were managed in a way that both limited risks and maximized profits. I am very good at what I do. I live in the Futian District in a penthouse apartment in the Shangri La hotel. While I would prefer to live in Hong Kong, it works out better to maintain a mainland address, and the border crossing is relatively easy these days.
The heat of the summer had finally dissolved into a crisp fall. It was the best time of year to live here. I sat on the wooden steps admiring the hundreds of skyscraping buildings in Honk Kong and Kowloon, and watching the boats skitter across the choppy harbor waters. There was a ferry boat heading towards me, one of dozens that made the trek across the harbor to various islands and ports. I tried to avoid the ferries because the sheer number of boats on the harbor always made me calculate the probability of a collision. The ferry captains seemed to me to have gone to the same navigating school as the Hong Kong taxi drivers. It was a matter of when, not if, an accident would take place.
I noticed a woman standing on the bow of the ferry. She was unmistakable because of her blazing red hair. At the moment that was all I could see except that she was wearing a cobalt blue dress. Both her hair and dress were waving in the stiff afternoon breeze. Her face was upturned. I suppose she was letting the slanting rays of late afternoon sun warm her cheeks. As the ferry came closer I could see that not only was her hair vivid red, it was also very curly. The red hair and pale skin told me that she was western, probably European. I began to study her more closely and let my mind wander a little bit with curiosity.
She was wearing white athletic shoes of some sort and had a cream colored sweater tied across her shoulders. At her feet was an athletic duffle bag. Was she a tourist? I didn't think so. She seemed to be alone and not many western women toured alone. So she was a local, probably coming back home after a workout of some sort. She looked fit. Her azure dress was tight in all of the right places and short enough that it showed off shapely legs. Perhaps she was a tennis player. She had that look. The dress could have even been an athletic garment and the duffel could easily have contained a racket.
I found it fun to let my imagination wander as the ferry slowed and stopped only 50 meters in front of me. A sudden thought occurred to me. I wondered if she had the same tightly curled bright red hair underneath her dress. I suddenly had a crystal image in my head of her nude with a soft patch of curly hair that was the exact color of the setting sun against very pale and creamy skin.
She picked up her bag and turned to head for the ramp that was being set from the pier to the ferry. There were only a few other people onboard and all were Asian so it was easy for me to follow her progress. She had a bounce to her step that reinforced in my head the idea that she was an athlete of some sort. As she was waiting for the ramp to open she took something from her wrist, gathered her hair into a messy ponytail, and lifted her bag to her right shoulder. She was the first one down the ramp, and I made an immediate decision in my head that if there was no one to meet her at the pier then I was going to follow her.
I did not have any clear idea of my intentions, not yet. I only knew that I was enjoying the fantasy game that I was playing with her in the lead role. I was afraid that she would head to the taxi que, which would have made following her more difficult. However luck was on my side and she began to walk up the hill through the winding cobbled roads of Central Hong Kong.
