Perhaps this is because being at these restaurants has been such a part of my childhood. It was my playground, my dining place, and a meeting place for my family to meet. On the whole, my relatives evoke a sense of blithe happiness. In a sense, they return me to my days of childhood, when I could frolic with abandon, free to delight in the pleasures of my own imagination. I see the eyes of my aunts and uncles, and I can see the love that pours out from them, and my heart leaps up to receive it.
Although the restaurant sometimes reminds me of my childhood and the good times I have had, at other times I am reminded of its sheer superficiality. Beyond the facade of elegance and merriness, it is simply a room full of tables of strangers. There is no sense of compassion between people. Perhaps I am overanalyzing the atmosphere of a Chinese restaurant, but I simply feel strongly against this barely concealed apathy that I see. Honeyed smiles that hide the half-sneers aimed at an especially loud table. Sometimes it all makes me crave something pure and true.