My life is a work in progress. If I think it is on track, someone or something else changes it. If I am trackless, a route appears. We live and learn. I find myself in the coins in his collection, in the bells around Lao Wang’s dog’s necks, in the mirror in Cai Gen Lin’s shop, in Song Song’s bed, in the opening of a door to a new home, in the reflected rainbows across the walls from the ancient crystals that Mr Beddoes gave me over 15 years ago, in the polaroids of friends, in the lanes, by the wells, on the back of your bike when you came looking for me, and in lost unstoppable flashbacks. Everyday, I find a little more of myself - gently piecing together the person I am becoming. There
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