Leaf Blower

The melodious tune was emitted into my left ear as I was taking a sip of tea, breathing in the air of China, somewhat hazy and congested. It was that of a combination of a flute and a whistle, I stood on my feet, gazing into the dock from the top floor of the night cruise.

Tea in China was better, fresher, and tasted more prominent. The people in China were too many, the man that was blowing the tune was pressing a leaf against his lips, sitting in a broad posture, facing the moon in his bulky costume. I did not expect anything from him, perhaps he was just taking a hiatus from his busy life, a convoluted concussion.

Time flew, I was sipping the tea, enjoying the gentle breeze, freed from my thoughts, a hollowed cavity was brewing inside me, not protuberant, but a soothing breather for me, escaping from all responsibilities, challenges in life.

I was doing nothing, relishing upon the tea from China, pleasing my eyes with the wonders of humans and nature that was built upon the land and sea, listening to the distant chatters in desultory,  “there would be a performance held in the first floor of the cruise by Xiao Hei, please proceed down, there would be gifts.”

It was a regular street show, performed by the man who blew the leaf at the dock just now. How… What… my thoughts were not unified, ruminating, culminating into a handful of aimless thinking. he is good, but there are people in China, who are better than him, that’s why he’s here, performing, earning just to live. I assumed, a bad assumption.

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Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

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