In Chinatown it is busy
Bikes go real fast down streets that are dark, covered with crumpled up chinese newspapers and what looks like the aftermath of a thousand party poppers
Colored paper that slowly disappears into the wind as the day goes on
An old man is wearing a sign on his chest
He speaks of anger towards the Japanese
How they have not rightfully paid China back for all the damage and heartbreak they caused in wars past

In Chinatown it is different
The air is soft, but the area is buzzing with people
I sit down at one of the bakeries
Here I am at peace
Here, although there is no one to talk to in english
I feel listened to

Theres all this repetition
Didn't sign up for what seems like this competition
Didn't walk two feet before I had to have it
Had to live it
Had to endure it
These storms that never pass
Life's like a rainstorm
Right before it's bound to end
Too many people leaving
Deceiving
Receiving everything that I can't have
Will never have
I suppose that to get these things you must be giving
Though Iv'e been giving for so long and I have gotten nothing in return
But disappointment and the chance to look at all my failures
all of my mistakes

It is very cold out
On days like this, pacing keeps your mind off things
Pacing makes one warm
Allows one to think without interruption
Making circles that never end against pavement that stretches out as far as you can see
with ones head always down, blocking off wind, you notice more about the pavement
Whether filled with newspapers that have never been read, or trash strewn alongside it.
It is odd, when it rains
the pavement is much more pleasant to walk on
and you are much more pleasant to see