We were lucky enough to spend a couple of years in Shenzhen, right on the border with Hong Kong. You quickly get used to living by the big water. If, besides the water, you’re fortunate enough to have a big window in a high-rise with a view of it, then you must have done something good in a past life.
Water is an excellent relaxant; a large body of water is like having a fireplace, a glass of wine, a good conversation partner, and a therapist all rolled into one, available whenever you sit in front of it.
But that's not all the benefits. An open horizon offers even more—you see time and space differently. All the cycles, the seasons, the sunsets and sunrises, the tides, the winds and calms, the birds, the boats, and even the planes—everything is right before your eyes, unobstructed by anything except 5 mm of glass.
And you also see people from a bird's-eye view: tiny figures, endless streams of toy cars, and the lights of another city, almost another country. And the only thing separating them is the water, though on the map, there's a border drawn somewhere in this area.
And you look at this water and find yourself thinking that you can't quite grasp the idea that somewhere in the middle of the strait, one thing ends and another begins. All you see is the water and the setting sun.
Sometimes you are lucky to have a special window in your life.
