Places consist entirely of the people that exist there. All of them. The one’s you like and dislike, the one’s with whom you share a coffee or a desk or a flirtatious glance, the one’s you give a nod to everyday but whose name you don’t know, the one’s you actively go out of your way to see and the one’s you haven’t even met. Yet. Especially them.
As I write this on my last night in Hong Kong, I’m not sure if I love this place or I love the people that have been this experience.
What I am sure of now is the pitfalls of transience. Spending a weekend in a place is like meeting a person for the same amount of time. How can two entities really experience each other in a few days? How can two people learn to love each other in that time?
Truly experiencing people and places is a time consuming exercise. The one’s that really matter or care aren’t always obvious from the beginning. But these connections are the life you live, your whole life. It’s worth the time.
In this place I’ve met many people and made many friends, but is there a point to becoming so close to people who live scattered around the world? Rarely seeing them?And when you do, only a few at a time?
Maybe you’ll never all be together again, almost certainly not with the same combination of personalities or locations, but the people you’ve met and the places you’ve visited have all contributed to each other. The people make the places come alive, they’ll always be there in the experiences you’ve had. I hope I’ve been able to influence people in the same way they have influenced me.
I love this place.
I love these people.