There's something oddly satisfying about waking up hungover only to discover that there there's a Typhoon Level 8 battering down the city. Not satisfying in the sense that people's lives are at risk, but satisfying that I have no agenda. Two typhoons hitting Hong Kong in one week. Typhoon Hato, a T10 followed by Typhoon Pakhar, a T8 four days later. Given the severity of the previous typhoon it was decided that I would not leave the apartment. Not today.
An evening at Taz. A hen's party. A mission to find somebody called Mark. It's the second last weekend before school starts. About to kiss goodbye to my social life I roll over and message the Australian with the thick accent on Instagram. When did people stop getting phone numbers?
An evening at Taz. A hen's party. A mission to find somebody called Mark. It's the second last weekend before school starts. About to kiss goodbye to my social life I roll over and message the Australian with the thick accent on Instagram. When did people stop getting phone numbers?
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