Bedridden after a bout of food poisoning. The internal keelhauling has stopped. The afterpain has not. Too weak to talk for 36 hours. All sorts of arrangements disrupted. Flights cancelled. Hotels cancelled. No question of ‘the show must go on‘. Times like this remind us of our frailty and our vulnerability. I remember watching my mother in her last 18 days and how she drifted and slowly ebbed first into a coma and then finally to whatever lies beyond. How quickly we can swing between our ‘true’ man age and the poles of infancy and dying. How right was Shakespeare. Read it, do:
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
I suspect I am Justice morphing into Pantaloon. But yesterday I was the Infant.
Now I am clawing my way back to normality. A little time to read, rest, write and watch the rain slap the windows. I can watch the sea from my bed but no boats are out just now. To quote the excellent HK Observatory:
The Strong Wind Signal, No. 3 is in force.
This means that winds with mean speeds of 41 to 62 kilometres per hour are expected. Since seas are very rough, you are advised to stay away from the shoreline and not to engage in water sports.
Sage advice indeed. I like watching the ruffled waves. No ‘white horses’ here. We are shielded by the islands. But the sound of the blowing wind is strangely calming to me. I like the sound. Provided I am inside. The bushes stretching to touch the paths and the palms whipping around with each gust. The yoga-like flexibility of nature. And I can finish off a photo or two. On Saturday I went to one of the nearby deserted islands, Yim Tin Tsai. There is so much to photograph here. I particularly like the derelict buildings. Here are two close ups and a view of the island from the jetty.
Note how shallow the DoF is at F1.4. The door is taken with a 50mm lens (not wide open) and the window with a 24mm lens, wide open. And finally the island itself. The building in the fore left is obviously being renovated. St. Joseph’s church overlooks the landing point and mid-right is the kiosk, where at weekends you can buy a refreshing oolong tea. The blue sky is by appointment only.
That’s it folks……….
All downhill from here 