My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky Part II

As incredible as it may seem, sometimes I find solace in the commotion that comes hand in hand with Chinese restaurants. While I do not particularly enjoy the noise itself, I feel I can lose myself in this sea of sound, melting into it like a drop of water. I can close my eyes and just listen, almost fading into nothingness, as if I am no longer there, simply part of a larger living entity. I do not feel anything toward it though; no happiness nor sadness; it is merely a refuge from anything outside the noise and the eating. Like the island in the eye of a hurricane, I feel calm, serene, and peaceful. All the while, the wind around me whips around, howling and shrieking. However, it does not faze me the slightest.

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.

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