I had been walking by this route for 12 years(my primary school was set beside No.2 High, and became a part of it when I was 17), from my 7 to 18, 2 twice a day, 5 days a week, sometimes 6. I can walk by it with my eyes shut now.
There are so many memories on this route. Spreading the death news of Deng Xiaoping to everyone in sight at the crossroad near Canton Fair at 6:30 am, staring at some drunk guys tremble out of the China Hotel at dawn, witnessed the car crashes… What the hell was I doing that early in the morning? Just on my way to school. I remember when I was a kid I used to be crazy about who’s the first one to get in the classroom. We even ran a competition on it. It was fun. I had to get up before 6, walking alone under the gloomy sky when the dim stree lights were still on, gradually I became addicted to this, I liked the fresh and cold air in the morning, cause it made me think things clearly, but actually things were rarely clear to me back to that time.
"Felix, Do you know what is love?"
"Yes, I do."
"O, you do? Then what is it?"
"Love is something about your family. I love mum and dad, and I love you too."
"O… that isn’t love at all… you don’t know what is love… forget about it."
That conversation took place when I was about 10 and walking back way home(somewhere between the hotel and the museum) with my friend Ho Hao San, the most naughty boy in class. Actually I was lying, I knew what he meant, but I was too afraid to anwser that question because I had the crush on the same girl as he did.