Life vs. Art
Life has got into the way of art; I haven’t been posting poems or thoughts daily as I used to. I am too busy living, which is a good thing. This is far better than being bedridden going over for the millionth time why, how, when, what if …
I’m in limbo, a murky grey zone between reality and fantasy. What could have been … circling round my head, driving the neurons crazy.
Work has picked up 400% from one pupil to four, ranging from barely five to seventeen from super rich to the man on the street living in a pitifully tiny apartment with his family of four in a council estate.
Attempting a kind of modern Robin Hood; robbing the rich to feed the poor and charging by the hour according to a sliding scale. The highest being $230 and the average roughly half that amount.
The boy of six from Mongkok is going to be a challenge; I suspect in UK he’d be drugged up to his eyeballs with ritalin for being hyperactive. I hate labelling kids but certainly he can’t sit still for more than 10 seconds and regularly falls off his stool and thinks this is absolutely hilarious. But nothing I can’t handle: at least he hasn’t started swearing and he can’t start chatting to someone else because it is just me and him and the four walls.
He is a devoted Thomas the tank engine fan so will have go in search of said item as bribe. I suppose all teachers are schizophrenic: one minute you are dangling the carrot and showering with compliments and the next you are threatening with the proverbial stick.