When the blue hour come to Hong Kong, the sky dim, the smell of spicy meat and exotic seasonings rose through the air, the stars dissolve into the warm haze and the golden streets lit up; and at the feet of the chaotic buildings, packed with machines like warrens in a hive, the red of celebration flow and the heavenly chime of neon lights ring out.
The heart of the city, Kowloon City, beat swollen with effervescent life, with cheerful voices and others full of violence, laced with shrill honks that, up in the heights of the enormous apartment block called Check Bo House, blurred into a murmur, almost into a harsh kind of music that rocked the exhausted Guo Zhao Wun to sleep. He lay down replaying the laughing look Shui Tsei had given him only minutes earlier as she waved goodbye, her hand cutting the air with the elegance of a swan and cherry blossoms blooming at the tips of her nails… And once again he buried himself under the sheets without finding the courage to tell her, before that black hair slipped out of sight past the door of the neighbouring flat, that his heartbeat for her.

Ankhro
The taxi he drives, patched together with new parts, has made him forget the fatal accident that cut his life short. Even so, he keeps carrying faceless people to a barren destination.
His hands tremble on the steering wheel. The cold always wraps around the shadows that climb into the back seat.
When the last ride is over, he takes the taxi to the central garage. He hands the foreman a fistful of gold pennies and has a drink at the bar.
—You look down —says a graceless voice.
—Cheers.
And he drowns his loneliness in a daydream of the next shift, where the taxi waits for him in an endless night that never ends.

Kana paints flowers in oil behind the curtains of her room. Sunlight filters through the embroidered fabric, tinted by its colors, and scatters in bright glimmers across the canvases on…