Walking through the city, my one-year old son asleep on my back, I’m surprised to see small changes here and there. The long time American rock bar on the second story of a small building that was a favorite place of an old colleague of mine, a place that I always meant to visit one day, closed.
Another empty store front further down the road. What kind of restaurant was it? I don’t remember. But then again, it’s been a while since I’ve walked this stretch of road.
Just how long has it been?
I look at the fallen leaves on the sidewalk, as if they have the answer.
dry leaves scattered
across the narrow street
is there a patter
Suddenly remembering that the renovation of the nearby train station is almost complete, I head in that direction.
Once there, another surprise.
the standing noodle bar
in the train station
replaced by a Starbucks
Gone are the slightly foul smells, the grease-stained walls, and the standing businessmen in suits. Some, I realize, might see this as a big improvement, but to me, it was sad. A symbol of culture lost.
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