From the Ground

It started with an ice block, deathly cold it had crushed my wind pipe. Recollection now jolts my memory to high speed turbulence. Touching my throat I recall cool anticipation of the unknown world mapped in lights below to guide us down. Hands stilled as slowly my fear melted, distorting the line between fear and excitement. My sharp breath quickened as my heart had started beating with our swift decent.
We’d carried black bags filled with our worldly belongings just as my mind carries memories of that first time- shrouded in darkness with adventurous treasures inside. 1994 and to us the world was a funfair of escapism, the gates to which we’d never had the key. But as we stepped on new soil we clutched our green keys, books of life, close to our sides to mount the exhilarating rides.
Pungent smells assault the senses as we skirt the outer lying areas. Sewerage stench mingles with that of decaying slums and abandoned dreams. We travel sprawling limbs up a heaving chest stabbed with dilapidated buildings, the tallest I’d ever seen. With grimy window nets and rickety scaffolding walls they loom above us, threatening silhouettes against impenetrable smog- the city’s outer skin.
On the ground thousands of feet drum their tune as passing bodies crush my ears. Countless hands caress my blonde hair, pressing me deeper to my suffocating tunnel. From nowhere, a hand, more urgent than the rest tugs me harshly. Fear and excitement - the emotions now clearly distinguished as I choke on terror cloying my polluted saliva. My leash tightens as a stronger hand yanks me against a familiar body. A protective arm cradles my shoulder as our feet beat the drum of Hong Kong’s bustling streets.
Six months later my mind flitters with a myriad of new experiences. It lulls with the sway of the aeroplane and settles on the memory of a protective arm. My shield against this discovered unknown world. Cocooned between the rows of seats, my five year old self falls asleep at my parents’ feet.