The Hourglass

Through the morning over a dozen fighter jets impossible to identify tearing the sky to shreds—Singaporean, Israeli or U.S. possibly. The paper reported one and a half million Syrian refugees in Lebanon and a couple of Saudi border guards killed in an attack on the Iraq side. Emerging 3/4D Printing revolution driven by the military sector brought fears of terrorists misusing.

      The Year of the Sheep or Ram, depending on one’s preference for symbolism, was anticipated by a Korean English Lit. Prof. quoting Yeats and recalling “the serene province that was once called the Land of the Morning Calm”. Since of course bitterly divided like so many other nations of the world.

      The young Chin lad collecting plates was from Changxu, not too far from Shanghai, if the imaginary map and finger-work on the table-top was accurate. Without a single word of English after close to a year here. Good to see the confidence in pulling up a pew directly across. Perhaps four minutes he sat. Twenty-one or two maybe. He had seen enough in the plate and cup returns as well as the smiles and acknowledgements to give him the courage to face the ang moh, almost certainly the first he had ever engaged at close quarters. The table-top can only measure three feet across maximum. Taking the chair directly opposite too when there were four in the row at the pair of joined tables in the usual place adjacent Mr. T.T.’s Servery. The hourglass sketched in the air for the lad had failed to convey any semblance of “girlfriend”; further pantomime in the same vein likewise. Not quick enough to recall the elegant stick-figure character crossed at the waist…. Ah, hang on a second. In fact no! That was “big”, not woman. Woman was a much more complicated compound character. One might have come close had he not scooted off, really impressed and surprised the fellow.