My first bicycle was stolen

I came down China along the coast and arrived in Hong Kong.

It was few days of my stay at Mr. Takahashi’s house in Hong Kong.

The library in Hong Kong had free internet access, so I had been going there for a few days.

Today I parked my bike in the usual place, the key was tied to the iron fence with a wire, and before entering the library I went for a walk around the Hong Kong “North Point” station.

I went back to the library and looked at the bicycles parked by the entrance, my first thought was “they look so clean”.

My first thought was, “It’s so clean! Gone!” It’s gone, it’s not ‘clear’, it’s gone,

My brain has finally recognised that it’s gone, my chest is burning and my mind has gone blank.

“Maybe the library staff moved it”,

I thought, and my body moved before I could think.

“Do you know where I parked it?”

The attendant shakes his head,

“I don’t know”.

I runs upstairs and repeats the same question to the person he sees who looks like an attendant, and the answer is the same:

“I don’t know”.

I goes downstairs and repeats the same question to a different person, and the attendant beside him asks,

“Where is the place? “Then the attendant who was beside me asked.

He took out his mobile phone and started talking in Cantonese, which I didn’t understand at all,

When the phone conversation was over,

he continued in English,

“They don’t know,” he said, “it’s probably been stolen. ”

As I listened to the result, the word “stolen” kept running through my head, which I had been trying to get out of my head for a while.

“Stolen by whom? here in Hong Kong, on such a battered bike!” I was shouting in my head.

The attendant said,

“Maybe it’s been abandoned near here”.

I look at the bicycles I see and repeat in my mind, “No”, “Damn it…”, “What kind of people and for what?” “What are we going to do now?”

Anger and anxiety mixed in my head.

I wandered around the neon-filled city looking for my lost bike,

but eventually I got tired and started to trudge home. The rain-soaked streets glistened dully in the neon light.

My anger had been replaced by a deep depression, and the journey home felt very long.