At the entrance to Gong Guan MRT Exit 4, there is an old, stout, beaten down Taiwanese woman with a baseball hat selling what look like instant lottery tickets, the kind that you have to scratch with a penny to find out if you are a lucky winner.
I am standing in front of the exit, getting out a piece of chewing gum from my daypack. A teenager walks by the headphones, and he's looking intently at his hip illuminated super-thin cellphone. As he walks between me and the lotto lady, she suddenly lifts her head and abruptly yells, "hey!", and she yells it again, "hey!" The kid is totally oblivious. She yells one last time, and then disappointed, stops as the boy walks into the crowds of people checking out little accessory stalls where you can buy cute Hello Kitty face masks to keep your lungs safe from pollution.
What just happened? There is another level happening that most of us can't see. Kind of reminds me of that movie Dressed in Black.
The old, bronzed, wrinkled woman is tired and starts nodding off. I'm still chewing my gum, but not ready to move.
A bunch of friends walk by, all in their early twenties. One of them, a nerdy-looking, slightly overweight, tall guy can't take his eyes off of the shiny tickets. He wants to buy one, but the woman is asleep by now.
I can see him letting go of the possibility of buying his ticket from the old woman, and he rejoins his friends. It's okay, there'll be another old Taiwanese lottery salesperson sitting waiting for him any minute now.
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