I drift up from sleep in darkness. I’m a little hazy about where I am, but I guess it’s home, and I’ll open my eyes to white cotton sheets, my down comforter, sun filtering through the red cedar outside my window.
I pry one, sticky lid open to find myself crammed into a window seat, with someone reclined into my lap, his wife sprawled beside me and some jackass movie continuously looped on the video screen.
It’s only ten more hours to Hong Kong. I groan and try to go back to sleep.
It’s been nearly 20 years since I first set foot in Hong Kong. It was exciting and mysterious and I researched it for weeks. I made long shoot lists, packed all the glass I owned and a hundred rolls of film and worked like a dog, exploring every nook and cranny of the place.
When I land this time, I go to the Starbucks and mope.