Window A

Sitting in starbucks is like sitting in an oasis of nearlythesame around the world. It's the season of the christmas cups which make me irrationally cheery. The hovering lamps, the generic music, the tables which must all have been made in china and shipped around the world. It's slightly obnoxious to imagine the possibility of turning a corner in a most remote land and coming upon the brightgreen sign which simultaneously scream hot coffee! and american imperialism haha. But. hot coffee.

I'm sitting here looking out at the denizens of Shanghai walking past my Starbucks window (I'm thinking I shall claim this spot despite the slight distraction of the turn-and-lookers) feeling in need of being amidst society. Not the impersonal larger-than-oneself's society, but people to talk to about everything and anything. about randomness and how wonderfully sunny it is today. I guess I miss that here. and I've only just realised it and no one seems to be responding to my tentative gestures at claiming a part of someone's afternoon to do that. humbug.

I don't understand this irresistible sense of happiness that shortcircuits me when i see an adorable child stumbling along the streets hand in hand with her grandmother, very seriously concentrating on taking in the environment and placing one foot in front of the other. It's not a sense of impending motherhood, but this primal, instinctive urge to scoop her up in my arms and baby her to death. possibly poor choice of words. but still hee.