I felt overwhelmed standing at the exact same spot of the Central that I did ten years ago, in the city that I hadn’t visited since.

I have been worrying about millions of different things but certainly getting a full SAT writing score isn’t one of those.

Across the Victoria Harbor runs hours of the Jay Chou concert - all the Proustian moments were triggered, even by the smallest traces.

I thought about all the good and bad repercussions, but the worst pain comes from, not awful decisions, but lost chances.

Returned tickets, unsent messages, and thrown away works.

Tatted sorry on the back of my ride but I know remorse won’t go as fast as a turbo s.

Being perfect was great until it became the perfect excuse.

And ever considered that taking the risks is the only way to hedge against risks?

It’s about time to cut the self-comforting monologues - yes, the water is under the bridge now, but don’t look left or right - simply run across.

I appreciate both what stayed and what didn’t. But frankly, nothing really matters to me any more other than those experiences themselves.

The other night I walked to the Ritz for drinks, and in that elevator going down I came to the realization that sometimes it’s ok to be the only one who fckn cares.

It’s almost too late - off the ground now, all the wheels.

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Written on the plane leaving HKG