I just came back from Hong Kong.  I went there for my friend Debi's wedding.  The wedding was fantastic. 

It was hot.  I stayed on Lamma Island, where Debi lives.  I walked in the hills.  I went to the beach.  I ate aubergine hotpot and garlicky prawns and minced quail.  I drank too much.  I cried when I left.

I go to Hong Kong often.  I've got lots of friends there and I always wonder whether I should live there, too.  But the differences between London and Lamma Island are so great (unsurprisingly, since Lamma is a small rural island in the South China Sea) that it seems the two places can't both exist; you have to believe in one or the other, relinquishing one reality, the way you relinquish your dreams when you wake up. 

There is never a problem about which one to believe in - you believe in whichever place you are in at the time.

Here's a poem I wrote years ago (right).  It's a sonnet.