— if our paths cross —
A few quiet places where I can be found.
The small courtesies that shape everyday Chinese life — how a doorway is built, which foot crosses a threshold first, how tea is poured for a guest. Not rules to memorize, but a way of moving through the world with care and grace.
Walk through an old Chinese garden and you'll meet doorways with no door — round like moons, shaped like vases, or a clean octagon. None of it is decoration for its own sake. Each one frames the view behind it like a living painting.
You step over a threshold, never on it. And there's an order to it — left foot for men, right for women. A small gesture at the boundary between inside and outside, family and stranger.
When Chinese people clink glasses, the lower your rim sits below the other person's, the more respect you show. A whole quiet hierarchy plays out in the height of a glass.
