They Sell Strawberries 

i see the same red
the sweet bright taste 
dances
as i take a bite
as it always does

all around me sights, sounds, 
smells so alien
so far removed from anything
i have known
or could have imagined.

an assault of colour 
grabs at my attention
a population packed in to 
bursting offers a multitude 
of disposable lives
the world moves fast
on the bustling streets
watch your step here
traffic moves according to 
no apparent rules and 
people have places to be.

time stands still 
as steam rises from a teacup
the clacking of mahjong tiles 
fills the air
it has done for years
old and new, 
tradition and novelty
become inseparable

it’s incomprehensible
in the beginning
the voices
the noises
the spices
the battering ram of 
products, places, people
breaks you open
and you discover
the world isn’t 
quite like you think it is

little by little
the strange 
becomes familiar, 
conversations 
gather meaning.

they sell strawberries 
on almost every street
of course, they know 
them by a different name
a different price
perhaps a different shape
but for all the things 
that have changed
it’s still the same red
the same taste
and although things 
at first are unrecognisable
i soon begin to see 
the same smiles
i soon begin to see
that we’re not so different 
after all.