It's actually a little bit funny, for I've never thought of it this hot and popular. After waiting for the reloading for nearly two months, I was finally notified the availability of the anti-hepatitis type B (I made it up, for who knows what it's called?) vaccination. So I decided that today's going to be my lucky day.

    Being examined to have the same need as I, Rich came with me to enjoy the very treat. I knew from the very start that this was not going to hurt anyway, a mosquito's bit at most I guessed. Yet Rich seemed to be quite scared. 

    I was the first to take the shot. Being informed that it could stimulate a sense of sour, I still made it without a tremor (for what was to be afraid of?). Actually, I was a little bit surprised that it only took thirty seconds to get the vaccine through the left arm skin and into my body to be part of me, yet cost me almost four hundred for the first round. The second round would be few weeks ahead, and hours before I went back to college.

    And it's Rich's turn.

    After mine was finished, Rich was called to enter the tiny room and receive the "trail". At first, Rich didn't move an inch. As if spelled stiff, he stood still, enclosed by the horror that's caused numerous imaginary fear and a cloud of dreadfulness blocking all the sunshine away and starting a thunderstorm. "Oh my god," I said as I went pass him, "it REALLY hurts!" He gave me a harsh stare, and went in to face the fate.

    Of course the shot didn't "kill" him. He left the closet with a smile of relief.

    As usual, Friday is the "Family's Day" of ours, in which the four of us will hang out together after six pm, enjoying the precious moment that doesn't come easily. We'd pay a bakery a visit, grabbing a bread or two for each one of us, and heading for the Citizen Square. Among the routines, a miracle happened. The globally acknowledged scrooge, Rich, treated us a cup of coffee each!

    Later, we picked a bench where all of us could fit in, and we watched. This time and this place is always on the run. People near by, living or working, all have a taste for a little walk here at the end of the weekdays in the hustling and bustling city. The whole Qing Guo Boulevard is a stage of endless shows. For the overture of the evening, the elder would, gathered as a group, dance to the English folk songs at the square. An hour later, children and teens come to the stage and bring us some games of sports, shouting and laughing. As time elapse, people finishing their dinner would appear, whether with their pets or just children who still look like little angels. At about nine thirty, the square would be "dominated" by dogs of any kind you can name. And that's when the whole square appears to be just like a circus. Dogs of big or small sizes all together, chasing each others' tails, fighting for a rubber ball, or saying hello to a new friend that's just joined the community.

    And we were astounded by a scene that you can barely believe.

    It's a squirrel, walked by two ladies, with a chain that seemed to be more fitted on a dog's neck! I've seen many squirrels, the audacious ones, in the college campus, but a squirrel walked by humans as a miniature of dog is definitely a picture of wonder!

    Curious, Sunny attempted the sisters, taking a closer look at the creature that barely sets foot to the ground while the rest of us stayed on the bench, daring the view with hidden curiosity. The sister told her that the one they were walking is the girl one, while the boy missing during the first walk they had. "He was chased by a dog, and we've never expected him to be that horrified and escape that easily," explained the lady in a sad tone, "we missed him so much but everyday the chance to see him again dwindles." The sorrow was such that they even posted lost and found fliers in the parks around.

    As we were about to leave the boulevard, a new show had just begun. And you might've guessed, yes, we were hooked.

    A freelance artist was painting, at the square at the end of the boulevard. He wasn't doing it with brushes and pens, but instead, hard carbon boards and cans of spray paint. On the ground were his art pieces scattered all over the square, each portraying different themes, but containing the colors that have the same magical power. His favorite theme seemed to be the "eyes". Three out of five pieces of his work have an eye of either sorrow, loneliness, mystery, or love. Others have moon, water, and stars. So we guessed, this artist must came from somewhere near the ocean, or at least somewhere cold and somewhere stars are palpably visible with naked eyes.

    The artist didn't keep himself still. He was working non-stop.

    Behind the ocean of his artworks, the artist was making another miracle. He took a piece of carbon board and place it onto a large suitcase, which served as a desk. Around the suitcase were dozens of cans of spray. (That's another major point for him not to shut himself up working in his studio, I suppose. The scent could suffocate even an well-armed bio-mechanic.) He used three pieces of boards alternately to make out lines of different length, a bow to draw circles, a DM from which he'd tear pages off and make out shapes desired, and a flamer for…, for a purpose I don't know.

    From the perspective of an outsider, the time required for a half complete artwork is amazingly short (the other half being the 24 hours for the drawing to reach full dry). We by-lookers would see him picking sprays here and there, coloring on the board here and there without hesitation, just like a printer making out a picture that is elegantly designed on the computer. He didn't have an expression of seriousness. No, he's not nervous at all. Instead, he was totally at ease, chatting with his friend as he proceeded.

    He was doing fast. With three cardboards remained beside him, he finally made a pause. "500 [each] for the big ones, and 300 [each] for the small ones," he said in a not-so-good Chinese. If you ever look closely at those paintings, you'll realize that this is really a bargain! However, nobody seemed to fetch the purse. So the artist went on. A few people walked up to him, and watched as he spell another magic. From conversations between he and the crowd, the artist is from Italy. And he's been here for eight years. (So he's been painting for eight years? No wonder!)

    The artist checked his watch. It was eleven fifteen. He spoke again, this time in English. "I give everyone a discount, the big ones, 400; the small ones, 200." he tapped his watch, smiling, "Five minutes only." It became a steal.

    Sunny had been interested in one of the "green eye" at the corner of the "ocean", but she just couldn't decide. Three minutes later, she finally made up her mind. She picked up her favorite, and walked up to the artist, asking him to sign on it. (That was when we finally knew his name, Alexander.) After Sunny took a picture of her and the artist, Rich couldn't stand it. He took a big one with a starry night of a city on the river bank, and the blurred reflection of everything above the water. He, too, asked to have a picture taken with Alexander. The two buyers were happy. (To some degree I believe they were elated, extremely.) The scent of the spray was overpowering, but the happiness reigned over it.

    The green eye is still waiting for a proper place to stay, after all, having an eye staring at you all the time doesn't sound like a good idea, especially a green one. But eleven fifty was when we made it home, which is exactly why I'm writing about the story I should've finished yesterday, an exhausting, yet perfect Friday!