I have just returned, walking home, from a doctor's appointment. In the morning, I visit the local Roman Catholic worship centre. It is a brown mid-20th-century building. I gaze at a Mexican Santa María painting in the hallway. There are words in Spanish. The banners in the high-ceiling main chamber are purple, signifying support for Lojban and things Lojbanic, perhaps. By lunchtime, I am at the Richmond Public Market. I take the stairs up. First, I drink a plastic glass full of Sour Plum Bubble Iced Green Tea from a bubble tea vendor called Peanuts. Second, from the food vendor Captain Wa at a corner, I eat Noodles with Lemon Chicken, Tofu, Lotus Root Slices, as well as complimentary Hot Tea.
Third, I drink a Starfruit Bubble Iced Green Tea from Peanuts, again. Fourth, having taken the escalator down, I buy a strange sinographic dictionary of a strange Asian Mainland tonal language. Fifth, having gone up the escalator, I drink a Mint Iced Tea from a bubble tea vendor called QQ Bubble Tea & Coffee. (The Q maybe is support for my Xoqolat.) The cold mint drink reminds me of my drinking mint at a café in Versailles in France, years ago. The Richmond Public Market is like a big garden atrium, as if in the middle of a tropical jungle. It is full of Kanjifolk.
Whilst my morning walk, I am thinking of geofiction, specifically of an imaginary Portuguese-speaking Macao which takes up the whole of East Asia. I wonder, though, how that uchronic fantasy would fit with my other idea in which the whole of Europe is called France.
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