Staunton Street.

We walked down the stairs and said goodbye to one another at the junction of the road.

L and I got in a cab, and from the windows we watched the midnight people out there on the street. We talked about our shared acquaintances, the hkimun people, how some have changed, some never. He sent me off at Marsh Road in Wan Chai. It was late and I was a bit scared to be alone, but soon a cab came and took me home. Then I thought about the night, about the stories they told.

I did not talk much, and did only if I wanted to. For most of my time I just listened to how they're getting on with their lives, how some of them have got together while others drifted apart. It's been ages since we last met, but it's comforting to find everything familiar and predictable. They're virtually how I've remembered them - their countenances, paces of speaking, ways of bursting into laughter. The boys were in shirts, as if we're back in those days again, reckless in suits that didn't fit very well with our age. We were very young then, and now we've come together again with experience, though not always pleasant ones.

Things do change, and we're from time to time reminded that what takes years to establish takes much less to degenerate. It sounds unreal when you read it in books but when it happens to the ones you know, it feels as close as personal. But I don't mean change is necessarily negative. Sometimes things just have to turn bad so that they could become good again, because a change is a chance.

L called me just to make sure I was safe and sound. He's like a brother to me and it's nice having him back at home again.