The romance of habitual repetition
I greet and smile at the lady who distribute free papers in Wanchai every morning.
Comic artist Chai said that he drew trees all over his sketch book from the years 1975-77.
My cat watches birds by the window every afternoon.
A guy sits above the bridge to talk on his mobile phone every time he passes by. Wonder if that’s his lover he was talking to.
There is a certain romance in things you do habitually, as irregularity only happens in relation to regularity. Where irregularities happen, it becomes "special". When others see you in your habitual behaviour, they register and it becomes a part of their visual habit. You may be remembered as "the guy who always go to work late", "the lady who puts on the Bvlgari perfum", "the kid who complains" or "neighbor who walks the dog".
What are you remembered as, my dear friend?
