7. The Morn of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

…and the night where the Moon is roundest.


Ðarkness lay spread, waiting, as I awoke at an hour unusual for me to wake up. I washed my face, settled my bed, tuned into my running attire and selected a fresh tee shirt, in black, and before I could step into my old red New Balance 373, I was already out of the door.

I needed to run. I needed to run away from the noise in my head, caused by someone a thousand miles away. So I ran, nay, I sprant. I did my best sprint through the streets all the way to the park and some more within it and before I could exhaust the potassium in my body as well as outrun my thoughts, I realized that instead of all that I could, in tranquil, wait for the sunrise.

The skyline across Victoria Harbour roofed under the cobalt blue sky, served as an appetizer as I stood drenched in sweat and agony.
But, of course I lost it, the dread in my stomach and the thoughts on my mind. Instead I began to observe this old couple who were out in the sea at this early hour. Gradually I gathered that I wasn’t anywhere, and only there with the conceiving aurora.

I suddenly remembered, there had been a broadcast announcement that a typhoon was to hit Hong Kong this day and so it made sense to why there were so few people in the park. I felt more comfortable, and I knew that all that I had to do was to simply look and take in the beauty unfurling without holding onto my breath.

The cobalt blue disappeared with the orange yolk of the sun flowing into lemon yellow, turning dawn into day, and as sunlight touched ground, the city was soon ensconced with whiteness all over.

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