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Writer's pictureJameel Haiat

My Tai Ping Shan Street

I'm here, at home on Tai Ping Shan Street, looking out on to my little city below.

My kitchen window invites and coerces me to look through her. She wants to share the City as only she can. Never mind if she's clean, foggy, rain streaked or dirty, she wants me to see.

A view for just me, she whispers. A brief peek out into the world of others.


There's the policemen breaking up the drunks down there at my local watering spot. I curse under my breath from my window seat. They're always there when you don't want them...


I see the tiny old woman, bent and twisted like a pretzel. She pushes her cart full of cardboard and recycles, piling it higher and higher, hoping it won't topple. There she goes, heading to cash it all in for the day.


My window points me to the sky, I see them. A family of gorgeous cockatoos flying with such elegance and coming to perch just above on the chaotic twisted mess of television antennas...lovely. They scream out to the neighborhood, telling everyone to look up, and of course they do.


Ah yes, there's the young school children holding their Filipina helpers hand as she walks them up the hill to class. She skips with them as they laugh and giggle along the way. Young, innocent, joyful and full of what's tomorrow...


There's my friend with the five dogs, drinking his coffee, taking a few more Insta pics. It's funny how those dogs have made him famous...haha. Good for him.


I smell the incense, freshly lit, wafting up from the small shrines and temples that adorn the street. The aromatic scent invites tranquility within my nostrils, invites memory.


Another piece of cheesecake is getting carried away from my favorite sweet shop to be devoured by its buyer. The thought of the many delicious flavors floods my mouth with saliva as I lick my lips.


I look across at the park as the sound of traditional music fills the air, the local seniors work on their Tai Chi and focus as they move...I love to watch them.


I suddenly feel a bit nostalgic, a little melancholic. Why I wonder? I guess I'll miss this place after all, this street, my street, my little neighborhood. Even with all the noise and people, it has something to offer, it has memories, emotions, it lives and breathes.

Here I have the perfect view out onto the everyday, the everyone, the everything, this world that is vibrant, real, alive...and mine.


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