Lunch, nevertheless, was excellent. I sincerely hope that both that restaurant and the one to which I had intended to go continue to prosper during these somewhat stressed times.
And not just for purely selfish reasons. They are all good people.
No, shan't mention the names of either place, nor the addresses, because even though I am so Caucasian that I glow in the dark, I sure don't want any outsiders heading on over and clogging them up with their plague-spreading whiteness.
I'm selfish. I honestly don't mind tourists starving and not having a place to pee.
It took a pandemic to unleash my inner meanie. I was such a sweet-tempered loving man before. Filled with kindness and a soft golden light. My aura radiated benevolence!
Um, I can't keep a straight face while saying that.
I've always disliked the tourists.
The pipe afterwards, on the corner of Walter Lum, was stellar. Truly a memorable smoke.
Samuel Gawith's Best Brown Flake in a Peterson Zulu.
While dawdling on Walter Lum after lunch, I heard a young Chinese woman telling two old men that they couldn't shelter in a certain space, it was private property. In English, not Cantonese.
I believe she's an employee of Empress By Boon, a new fancy restaurant catering to yuppies. It's sad when the English-speakers take over Chinatown and act like it's theirs.
There are ever more of them. An inexorable tide.
唐女唔明唐話! 真櫂噉！
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