Spring ‘25 New Fragrance Releases: Announcing the “Eaux Caïnes” Line of products.

The Eaux Caïnes Spring 2025 re-release and upcoming product developments feature iPigeon.institute’s most deeply heartfelt, and aesthetically peculiar, as it were, offerings of fragrance products that lean heavily upon various scholarly research aspirations that have been brewing for years, now - here, coming to fruition with a bountiful assortment of novel, specialty, and rare aroma compositions, the so-called “Eaux,” collectively. 

The particular tendrils of etymology that underlie these new products, from my research and development arms of the company’s investments draw richly upon some of the youthful charm and aesthetic of the initial formative years in iPigeon.institute’s establishment, where illustrious and complex aptitudes of far reaches in to literary and cultural contexts drew up grand imagery of what our current reaches in scholarship, given technology, world literature, and language, in short, construe for us, at the ever-establishing new horizons in technology, and the power of transliteration, with its attempts to bridge those cultural gaps. 

I had become a figuratively faune sauvage scholarly pigeon-lover, intent on staking a speculative claim upon the world of high culture, with my niche in tow. As this blog’s archives of former years’ articles will show, it was a florid imaginative and speculative space, which documents the youthfulness I felt, for dedicating myself to feeding the birds, as a self-induced, dedicated task that I put myself up to, whereas I found myself in a hopelessly aught-else place and period of time, in life, of deep introspection, and an affinity for scholarship on my own time, making up for lost years of ineptitude and distractibility that I found myself in, as a former graduate school university dropout, in Music Composition. Back then, the demands of my studies curriculum were far beyond my years and capabilities to keep up with, and I found myself falling shamefully behind in showing up, appropriately, for class. Despite this, I was given some seeds of intellect and of discovery that would resurface, during the current organization’s establishing years, as a grand tapestry of inquisitive and far-reaching horizons of illumination, coming to light, now that many years of subconscious failures and lacking skills had tempered, within me. In short, I was shown many wise lessons of worldly cultural scholarship, through my academic years, in attending school, that would rise up, to the surface, to be requited by a more mature take on the topics and discussions of years past. 

Back then, I pondered over the matters of life that faced me, bleakly - could I, if I was given some other, alter-ego nurturing environment “concurrency” of upbringing and of comprehension, have averted so many disasters and failures that I faced, in life, for being a drug addict? I feel that this is where many individuals, of this place in time, colloquially, would care to consider, in life. This is where I find common ground with many other people, in life. 

In hindsight, I can chalk up my university years as shortcomings of a more esteemed purpose and path in life, whereas my skill sets and strengths would naturally take many more years to bear fruit, given the extents of my nurturing environment’s essential boundaries. A certain slice of scholarship would duly have been seen to outperform me, whereas the academic environment of graduate school, and, of college, itself, bore down on me, whereas I found myself often underprepared and at a loss for words, for class discussions and presentations. 

Now, the technology is far more accommodative, and I find myself, paced with less anxieties over performance in competitive learning environments, whereas I always take to enterprising ways, naturally, as a merely “somewhat” faithful dictaphone representationalist of music, as art, whereas the study materials opened new avenues in to deeper foundations of music, as communication, and as representative art, which I draw relevance upon, with my transliterative novelty enterprises, in my current workflow environment. 

Whereas, the internet, and our scholarly literature, given our place in life, and, in time, wherein we have the potential to inherit, or invent, novelty, still; I’d refer back to a notion I had come across, in my research, where novelty itself, as a term, would eventually see an ironic end of life extent, in its outcomes, as the procurement and development of intellect and of knowledge, whether organic, or artificial, or otherwise, at least, ex tempore, of natural, or of conceivable literature and knowledge base, in short, would see an exhaustive show of contributions, such that every ends and means of scholarship and etymology would someday see its full and human potential; things that we could attain, for ourselves, as denizens of the era of which we are provided, given accessibility and the internet; of technology and of scholarship. 

These complexities flourished through my mind, as I found myself, a young man, struck with the inescapable fate of having failed in former enterprises, requiring a paring down of expectations, and some time for reflection and accountability of what life had come to, as for myself. Essentially, it was a humbling time of dissociation from the loud and outspoken attributes of my character, and subsequent personality, which had failing associations weighing down upon my weightier soul of introspection, where I had smeared over some of the fragile and more humble aspects of living, and of life’s potential, that found themselves in untimely environments that sought recreation elsewhere, with similarly historically youthful expressions that presented themselves, given the weight of so many things that I had been shown precedence of priority, in considerations that time offered me, now that I found myself undoubtedly singular and solo, fraught with a dialectical of thoughts and suggestions of an abundant resource, in variety. 

Such backdrops are the fundamental intentions behind the “Eaux,” [oʊ] or “waters,” collectively, line of fragrances, drawing upon inspirations found in some studies that bear down on the French culture and traditions in aesthetic finery, and, with their contexts of cultural aesthetics, and of the stories we find, looking back, of the lives of the people, both renowned and undiscovered, whereas the world of literacy and imagination offered unique and untold dramas of the human condition, of which we would someday find subsued, in the eventual domination of intelligence acquisition, and what a rich resource to draw upon, should we be skilled in understanding. 

One of the mentors of my lost years, of soul-searching, and subsistence-seeking, fancied himself [oʊ] (short for O.G., American slang for a common sort of man, who had seen hard times and incarceration in life). I remember him for his gentle demeanor and handling of me, as a young inquisitive sort, in to gang life and culture, back around the years leading up to 2007, or so, when crack cocaine was a prized subculture feature of the part of L.A. that I had frequented. I draw upon my fondness for “O,” because he departed my life, unbeknownst, and into the void, suddenly, when I lost contact with him, during the proceedings of law enforcement interventions in to the crack cocaine subculture and gang affiliated behaviors that had taken over some streets, within some confined areas of Los Angeles, on many frequent nights, citing the dues to crime and addiction that would rack many people’s lives and finances, of that era in Los Angeles’ cultural history. “O,” as he referred to himself as, to me, had broken both of his fists, against a car’s windows, (this had happened in front of me, on some nights), where he had become frustrated with drug deals with passing vehicles - one of the characteristic and defining features of this gang culture’s aptitudes, in the neighborhood). Being that he departed from my life, before I saw him through, in hospitalization and recovery from his injuries, I felt a loss, for him, and I’d despaired over his wellness and outcomes in life, being that he didn’t make it, for some time, to a hospital, on his own, during the weeks subsequent to his self-injuries, and the transformative effect that the law enforcement intervention “crackdown” had had on the continued showings of crack cocaine sales, in the community. It was a stark transition in to a sobering era, whereas the streets were seen to be liberated from takeovers by drug-dealing gangs and associated cartel. 

The smell of “Eaux caines,” otherwise, a transliterary mash-up of happenstance and terminology, long story short (it will go untold, for the time being), essentially referring to the scent of the “Eaux:” or, “waters,” as is common French terminology, in fragrance, and in perfumery, as commonly seen in the prominence of eaux de colognes, which is industry nomenclature for a 2%, or more, dilution of fragrance concentrate in solution, typically alcohol, in men’s fragrance. Here, the eaux (“ohs”), in this instance, in linguistics usage, take on the lighthearted and bold nature of the men and women of that place in time, out on the streets, as the legacy of the composition and intrinsic nature of the fragrance line will construe; I’ll return to that subject some other time. 

It’s a topic much better left to a skilled speaker and distinguished scholar, perhaps, which I am not, currently; someone who could deliver the speech more profoundly, and with better composure than I have, for speaking, for the foreseeable years to come. Yet, despite this, I’ve made the investment of time, and some funds, recently, to have produced another, and, more sustainable, product development round of this speculative subject area in fragrance, and in ethnographic-anthropological exploits and discoveries in chemistry, and of associated pharmacology, based upon, well, speculative, and, amateur, caricatures, of fragrance-making scholarship and studies, that I could make out, which I find - are centered upon the fragrance of a crack pipe. “La Caine” is also a commune, in France, very sparsely populated, which features a nunnery and small Roman Catholic Church, attesting to the stark contrasts of religious devotion, which underlie so much of our narratives, here in America, as well - particularly when we find ourselves in times of hardship.

More to come, on this, at some point. I just wanted to inform the people, once again, in case folks were curious as to what I’m wearing, scent-wise, when I go out. 😏

- on the the heels of the emergence of the subject area of Proto-semiotics.

Challenges in training wild pigeon flocks, and some corollaries.

 Just a moment ago, I happened upon reflecting, internally, upon a crossroads of various thoughts. One of them was the impermeability of my Chinese side in me: I thought about this, within the contexts of life coaching affecting personality shifts, and, with regards to animal training, and the difficulties that are inherent in working with wild birds. It is, after all, a Chinese saying: 

A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

 Affecting such a sort of change, in a wild bird, compared to the standard, hands-off, keep away nature of birds, yet, in urban society, and, hence, with pigeons and other city birds in Los Angeles, CA, USA, it's still a rare occurrence to encounter a bird (pigeon) that is malleable and resilient enough to get close enough to a human who is postured and positioned for potentially putting hands on the bird. Birds of this sort (city type) are well-familiarized, typically, with the gestures and habits of humans - for certain, there are bird lovers abound, who care to be gentle and loving to the birds, and, on the other hand, there are much more shocking gestures of humans and their animals of chasing after the birds, or, outright frightening the birds, such as: mindlessly, or out of frustration. 

A pigeon decoy.

It is my experience with animals capable of higher intelligence, which are capable of being trained, that, absent of an early nurturing environment of singular human care, beyond a certain point, in the creature's infancy, the mind of the animal is fairly malleable, in adjusting the lifetime degree and measure of trust that the creature has, towards the caretaker. A traumatic experience in the animal's nurturing environment circumstances will tend to shape the creature's general attitudes and level of trust, as well as trainability of the animal, over a lifetime. I thought about all of this, momentarily, while lamenting a broken relationship or two, that had happened to me, in life. I thought about things, such as could I have done something more? I reflected upon deeper contexts of the issue that I draw relevance, here, between my life, and the flocks of pigeons that I try to tame, here in downtown LA, (I work on two flocks, in general, lately) for my amusement, and for the amusement of others, hopefully, in the future. I thought about my mother, who is Chinese. She brought me up of a relatively rigid and disciplined sort; I ended up an early bloomer, in some contexts, such as in school, and in dating, compared to some of my peers. My recurrent thoughts 💭 of my mother, lately, (absent of speaking directly to her) are fairly astute; that is to say that there's little variance between what I remember of her, and what goes on, in my thoughts that include her, now, in terms of her personality. We were very close, in our upbringing. On the other hand, my father was a less patient disciplinarian, and the imaginative thoughts I experience of him, now, tend more towards confusion and caprice, and it's moreso troubling sorts of things that go on. Mind you, this is all referring to things that happen in my mind about them, when I'm by myself. 

I draw this comparison between my relationship with my parents and the birds that I take care of, because it's a sort of parenting, to take care of a flock of birds, such as these pigeons. I also think up my available models of behavioral conditioning and nurturing environment expertise possible, given my own experiences; I consider the expertise of others, as well, such as in instances where I've sat in on trained-animal shows and installations, such as the small-parrot aviary at the San Diego Wild Animal Park's (they've changed names, since I've been, apparently) walk-through aviary that they had, where hand-tame small parrots would land on patrons and drink nectar out of little cups that visitors could purchase. I wonder about the years-gone-on potential of these pigeons, somewhere down the line, and I think about what these birds could be capable of - some part group and social abilities training, and some part, some facet of the Wild Animal Park's walk-in, hand-feeding aviary experience, somehow, navigated through the lens of that the pigeons are just wild birds. I've seen, and experienced, some features of this sort of descriptive pigeons and parrots experience, up north, in Sacramento, where, as a child, I had a formative experience in feeding birds (pigeons) that would land on people who fed them, and take food out of their hands. 

(Some of) a flock of pigeons that I take care of, in town. One arrives, swooping down from the birds' ledge, while others eat their meal, and while one examines me, observing them.

Obviously, I get used to some of the birds, and there's some of them that I would miss, if they disappeared. This is on my mind, because Snooker, the resident Pakistani High Flyer of the local Library's flock, seems to have gone in an extended leave, over the past week, or so' which is uncharacteristic, although, on one hand, new birds showed up at the flock's ledge, where they hang out, all day, and, being a whitish breed of pigeon, Snooker was fairly unique. There's a new white pigeon, amongst the new birds, and I know of a flock, nearby enough, where there's a backup Pakistani High Flyer, so it's not a complete loss, if Snooker is truly gone for good, somehow (there was a pigeon hunter who visited the flock with a hawk, recently, although I think I saw Snooker after that). I'm mostly concerned about the breeding stock, and of the birds' individual psychology, in the case of the unique, white, or whitish pigeons, such as Snooker, or, in other cases, where the decorative features of some of the pigeons, which have developed, over years, could be lost, if the birds happen to be picked on, or picked out, for hunting purposes, particularly, although I don't own the birds, per se, I know, and people are generally free to do as they please amongst, or about, the birds. 

Snooker tends to disappear, though, here and there, I'd estimate, and since he had sired some young, or mated with females, at least (I'd witnessed him mate, once or twice), there's a possibility that his genetics will appear, soon, or, over years ("recessively," as it's known, in genetic terminology), once again, if he had gone missing, permanently. There's a chance that he's caring for some young, with his mate, for example, perhaps, since I'd seen him recently pair up with a female 🐑.

Anyways, what I thought had been unique conditioning rhetoric that occured, recently (yesterday), was that the birds had started to get used to me showing up, and I'd been favoring sweet, rich treats, such as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with table syrup (now, I'm doing PB&J with marshmallow creme). Some of them start to anticipate being fed, and they'll swoop down, when I show up and sit on the ledge, and wait for their food (sometimes, they won't wait, though, and they creep up and steal a slice of bread, while I prepare their sandwiches. Inevitably, the slice falls down, on to he sidewalk, and some of the other birds, waiting below, begin to devour the bread slice, hungry creatures that they are). This time, though, the really cute thing that some of the birds did was that they followed me, after I was done feeding the flock, and I was headed over in to the library. There's a shady alcove, beneath the foliage, where some of the birds have started spending some time, to cool down, during the heat wave we'd been going through, in Southern California. So, several of the birds follow suit, and track me over to the new spot, which, I feel, is a good signal for optimism that these birds are trainable, despite being adult birds, most of them. There was a bird that had swollen ears, or an infection, of some sort, and he's doing better, lately, as well. 

Today, I have a friend.

 For people who see me around town, being that it’s the civic center metropolitan district, I’d suppose that I’m a sore sight, on various counts, for some people. On one hand, for example, I feel like I’m fairly pro-sociable, and that I’m good for “friend status,” and, although it plays out, in truth, in some sort of informal and disjunct fashion, I feel like, even though I’m present, in a cognizant sense - meaning, I could reliably answer questions accurately, in nearly all situations (which, I’d say, is one of the hallmarks of my reputation, nowadays, amongst people who know me), I have some chronic pain and inflammation issues that never seem to go away, being that I’m legitimately fully homeless, and, since town is fairly upscale, in many of the small locales which characterize the areas I frequent - this is Los Angeles, on one hand, and we’d been brought up, in this generation, to have fancy ideals and aspirations to live up to. 

Nowadays, I wonder how the rest of America views this fumbling facade - it’s become a stark contrast - this notion of poverty and the battle for inclusion, in to the American Dream, whereas so many people are mired in judgmental paradigms and sociability-defeatist attitudes of better aspirations (perhaps), whereas I constantly see groups of peers and colleagues, amongst us (youths), of this generation, berating each other, at the slightest notions of escapism, in to some sort of virtuous or fanciful deed, or gesture - essentially crippling the work day, work week, workplace morale, and, in doing so, it undermines so many foundational and essential functions of coworkers, affected demographics, and governmental institutions. My personal, fanciful belief, that I flout, sometimes, is one where I assert that people’s common belief of that we are constantly struggling against budgetary concerns (crises, that it were), is actually shortsighted, and, a more insightful perspective on things is that people would endear to fund us - from whatever means available (yet, only “somewhat,” on that last notion); yet, at the most distributed workforce entity-meets-consumer, as far as social services, public and mental health services, and other relevant institutions, I feel that a limited pool of selectivity in hiring, and extraneous influences upon workplace attitudes has become pervasive and characteristic of unaccountable organizations, where casual unprofessionalism is considered due process, and trite judgmental attitudes and quips, which characterized the abuses that we’d known, and, largely, as young society, back in our early school days, committed against each other. In recent memory, it seems that, over the course of new, and forthcoming presidential administrations, we “repeat” some of the hard-won, progressive policies, which had taken decades, at these points in time, various that they are - yet, it seems that they have to be repeated, for the sake of folks who’d been distracted, or who seclude themselves, as hermits, of some fearful respite over growing up, and facing adulthood, and it’s constituent features, vulnerabilities, responsibilities, accountability, and so forth. 

On one hand, this is an age where science and technology dominates life. I feel that, to deny the preeminence of this facet of society and global commerce, would someday work itself out, for individuals, to inevitably be torn asunder from this sort of privilege that we enjoy, whatever that might be. 

As for myself, I experience several, perhaps, disadvantages, as far as being homeless. I make accommodations for myself, in various forms, yet, all in all, I’m perhaps not all that much different from my “housed” (surreptitious, being that it’s within my memory, and I’d duly “housed” myself, rightly so, as an independent business owner, in previous years) self - on one hand, sure - maybe I was “playing house,” in some cases, yet, in some other cases, I fully supported myself, all on my own. Over time, I learned valuable lessons, over losses, and I take those things in stride, and I expect little, these days, that I’m not already offered, or taught, “had been” taught, already, or, on one hand, I’d been distracted from thinking, perhaps, due to this ongoing exhaustion, which I’d mentioned, earlier. 

Anyways, getting back to my vision, of the rest of America - essentially, “hoping” for a beautiful generation of us, coming from out of this California Dream, so to speak, and, rightfully, as well, I’m sure that they expect it. We read half-hearted news, out here, nowadays. We get untimely late updates about rainy weather, lately, that I experience, for example, and, for me, that’s one thing that really affects me, at least, for a day, but I do a lot of reading, and I encounter, just tangentially, subjects such as weather engineering, which irks me, when the weather is, year over year, uncharacteristic, and seemingly, cruel, at that, and arbitrary. I feel that a proud and foolish man (or woman) would claim superiority over nature, whereas natural sciences are, on one hand, significantly vast, and numerous, in nature; and, as well, for the sake of the fact that a self-made attitude, in part, plays in to this sort of narcissism, and, on another topic at issue, sometimes, people gather together, in the various forms that we gather, nowadays, or are influenced, collectively, perhaps - we may be apt to have been led by suggestion, at a point in time in which we were prone to seek peers, and support, for ourselves, which is natural, and standard, in psychology, whereas cruelty sometimes simply seems, or feels like it’s appropriate, when our emotions and patience are tried. The best of the self-made pool of successful people, as far as articles have reported for us - would (surreptitiously) have a second-hand, non-arbitrary “serving” of their foes’ consequences, for defiance - it’s part of corporate governance structures, I’d come to discern, in far fetched lessons that I glean intelligence and insight from, which seem to rightfully characterize the man or woman whose face seems to be duly their own, and with recognition to boot, for having become the rare public figure who had flouted a poor reputation, notably so, of some sort, which regularly peppers our news feeds, of a Scientology sort of twinge to a story of life 😏. It’s tough, but we all like to laugh, on one hand. 

Wait. While I arrived at this thought, I’d like to dote on a recollection of its significance - of the fact that we all like to laugh, raucous and foul-natured that the humor may be, and despite expectations at maturity and composure, yet, writers have to have a job, and “everyone’s got to matter,” (perhaps, here, inappropriately, that I’d put this last assertion in quotes), and humor is one way to soften the insults that more well-composed, patient, and reserved folks might otherwise duly characterize these sorts of qualms, of occurrences, that get served to us, on our intellectual meal plates. 

Some sort of similar notion got flouted my way, for observation, and for ire, for example, when I’d checked on a selfie porn video that I got talked in to filming, and I looked fwacked and bwammo’d, most surely, facially, which - on one hand, I’d refrained, initially, from posting it, yet, I got talked in to reconsidering it, and, even though - fwacked and bwammo’d, in appearance, to be sure, I relented, and I went ahead and posted the video. It made me consider contingencies of classical virtue, in a philosophical sense, of stuff like, “well, what if it’s just fwacked and bwammo’d on my end, for ethical and moral purposes, like self-restraint, and public relations considerations, et al - considerations?” I’m not all that cognizantly a pornographic narcissistic exhibitionist, via search, so outright and simple. Who is? - I figure. 

Okay. Some people are…, or, uh, I dunno. I don’t really know anybody. Who really knows the real somebody, anymore, these days, enough to truly get to know somebody, for real friends, types of purposes? Some guy gets me, like that, and we’re hanging out, right now. Some notes, I encounter, are that he makes me desire drugs, none whatsoever, while he’s with me, and, by and large, I’d refrained from re-dosing myself, whereas, I’d probably, most surely, have had chosen otherwise, had I been by myself, which is characteristic. I’m always by myself, as a homeless person. I’m always fraught with the presence of others (okay, sometimes, perhaps. I do like people-watching, a bit - but not, like, I’m super-in to it, or by any means, inappropriate) - I’d used pornography, in my personal time, to satisfy that sort of personal aspiration at intrigue. I guess that some people find it creepy, since the reality of creating pornography is sometimes a matter of abuse, from an objective, societal perspective - in common sense, in other words. I know that, well enough, yet the pursuit of capturing the essence of beauty pervades our young minds, regardless of religious underpinnings, reeling against that sort of impulse. But what could possibly be left of childhood, for one thing, if these types of freedoms and expressions of ourselves were so truthful, accessible, and… simple, on one hand? It would easily cheapen the structure of authority, itself, if our nude and sexually vulnerably prone selves were our easily accessible identities, in common encounters. 

One thing that I imagined, in this moment - fleeting that it seems, for me, since I’d gone off, on contextual and corollary subjects, yet - here, I envisioned that I; within this context of this new friend that I have, for the time being - he’s still somewhat anonymous and new, for me, and a bit lofty, which is fine - my take on things is that reoccurrences, of casual encounters, is a rightful duty that true locals have to bear, for the namesake of being a local. Out here, that could get pretty rough, for a well-traveled person, yet intelligence, in many cases, rises to the task - independently supporting what’s duly right - simply right, as our higher power, as individuals, in a sense. Anyways, I showed the guy some of my old photos, and they were blurry - jittery, so to speak. I considered various things, such as - had “such and such” headquarters got rattled, of their data centers? On one hand, I’m a bit of a sore subject, in big tech c-space circles, imaginably, yet, I’ve encountered, in some instances, old dogs of men just don’t want to look bad, in front of people, if they can help it - something like that. Another thing that I’d been imagining is this “live forever” thing, and the consequences of equitability, and personal responsibility in the matter, sort of thing. It’s a hugely flouted topic, amongst people of my peer group, age-wise, I imagine, or figure. I mean, they see me, and, based on my past, they constantly seek retributions, actively, whereas, as I’d detailed, previously, here, the well-mannered and austere, or even “anonymous” (for not… well, I dunno, I guess, what makes a person anonymous, off-hand, except… well, maybe it’s the adults-only contextuals, or something - so much sexual abuse goes on) amongst the big tech corporate figures - they maintain (forgive the cheap grammar, please; it’s just for ease of usage) composure by long-gone-on standards of ethics, which are enforced, and admired, throughout the millennia, for the inherent, fundamental, and structuralized sustainability within those forms. These types of restraints and restrictions upon our expectations, and our selves - forms some of the suffering and burdens that some people are commonly fond of, or some cultures, for example - as an off handed quip, but I figure that people know what I’m talking about. 

Anyways, ugh. A huge array of annotations and subject and author citations to wrangle out - while I’m shallow-means deep, in this Sticker Time concept, perhaps, which I’d used a one-step (mostly) app, lately, to vectorize and “cute-if-y” my photo images (mostly mine, but I hadn’t foreseen some of these consequences) - such as my old photos becoming jittery, which I can withhold from doting and musing upon - for one thing. I can, as well, get around to these image annotations, T & C’s checkings-on, and making-sure, kinds of stuff, but some of these Sticker Time images, I feel that I couldn’t just do without, as far as handing them out, anonymously, and scarcely - because, on one hand, who could possibly truly be “God,” whatsoever, with absolute expectations and breadth of reach, reliably? Some people just aren’t reached. 

I figure - I’ll Sticker Time some folks, when I can, at random, mostly, and equitably - Sticker Time them.

Now my old photos are jittery. 

🙄

Original photo shared by @a_london_pigeon, on Twitter. Cartoony-look (plain vector) by Vector Q app.

A quick sample of Cantonese Chinese culture, via BBC video.

 A lot of people have fairly much little to no reference, as to what constitutes a distinction between Cantonese Chinese from most Chinese individuals whom they would come across - the Mandarins, who constitute most of mainland China, whereas Hong Kong, where my mother had resided, in her upbringing, and in her youth, had lived. Hong Kong is a small island, not very far off of mainland China’s coast, and it is just a bit smaller than Los Angeles, CA, USA. I took a look at some news articles, this morning, and this BBC news video shows a quick view of what Hong Kong looks like, as well as that the reporter in the clip speaks with a Cantonese accent. 

A look at the sidewalk vendor scene of Los Angeles, CA.

Here in Los Angeles, the conventional wisdom of our upbringing was that Los Angeles is a sprawling, vast city. Indeed, at about 503 square miles, there is much ado about this town, civic and culture-wise.