I made many false starts by imagining the ad I would place in magazines and papers: ‘Looking for Luke who grew up in France. Came back to Hong Kong in 1994. Met you at Berlin Lan Kwai Fong. Last saw you at your shop in 1999’. The placement does not matter; I will the wandering eyes of the readers’ to stop at the small rectangular box. But my words are meaningless: none of the readers will know Luke; Luke himself will never see the ad.

“Give it a try,” a friend said to me.

Snail curled small
in its grooved shell
clasped to the nurturing wall
Seeking double protection

Little red body
five filament legs
and two tearing tentacles
The spider roams the same wall

Chair drum- shaped
amalgam of styles
spindle backed and dumpy legs
Holding me, leaning back on bricks

Sinews flexed
or bound, we exist
five pieces of work
Awaiting rain, another

state of being.

Kavita Jindal

Poem by Ady Chung Fong Yeung                 

                        All the pieces come back to me now
When a collected voice mentioned your presence
Starting off the recent news -
Officials said it was old.
It was then to be rebuilt
And so much was to serve the new.

                  I wondered
                  If you were a last but one antique
                  Invaluable, low-storey overall,