Author: Daniel D. Watkins

There was a piano near our departure gate. I sat outside Starbucks, while we waited for our flight and to people watch. Sal had gone to queue.  While I was waiting, three teenagers approached the piano for a laugh. Two were egging on a third to sit down and bang the keys. I was curious…

One morning, quite a while ago, before Hong Kong became what it is, a horse appeared on the beach, just a silhouette small upon the white sand. It stood at the far end near the rocks wild but not free, being hemmed in on the right by the sea and on the left by the…