"I have a lot to be grateful for in life, you know." I told her when we were walking home last night after watching Mao's Last Dancer. "How often in your life you get the opportunity of waking up in the morning, walking out of your room, and meeting and eating and talking side by side with a beautiful Spanish vet who wants to learn English, who visits poultry farms every week and who treats you like a gentleman?" Not many. We smiled and we nodded to each other and continued to walk solemnly in grateful appreciation of the beautiful life we've been blessed with.
Afterward, when we were home and my friend and I was sitting at our dinner table, eating our Chinese takeaways, my photographer friend joined us. Exhausted from his long day, and complaining to us about his bad day, he dipped his two toasted bread in a baked bean and a leftover of instant Indian dish from yesterday.
I looked at him, and I looked at my soy chicken and rice. "Would you like some of my chicken?" He lifted his eyebrows, "Oh, no, no, no, thanks.". We sat back in silence, each enjoying our meals. Fifteen minutes passed, we talked and we chatted. Suddenly he turned to me, his eyes locked mine in earnest honesty, "Can I have some of your chicken?". We broke in laughter, "Of course!" I shoved my container to him rather happily, glad to wash away my guilt of eating good food while he couldn't.
"One day when you're famous, we'll go to the opening of your gallery in New York and you'll remember us as the people who feed you when you were a poor student." He nodded, smiling mischievously at us while we laughed.
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