On this cold and rainy evening by the fire, when thunder and lightening accompany the pelting of lentil-sized ice chips falling from the sky and onto my window, it sounds like a good time for bedtime stories.

A friend of L’s went to a store one day, and for his own reasons was drawn to buy a necklace of a chinese character he couldn’t read. He was then inspired to give it to L, for no apparent reason as far as I know. Just one of those things people do, who knows. When I saw it lying on the table, I too was very drawn to it, and as I was admiring it, L said I can have it.

So I put it on, and loved it even more. Conscious that I will be going around with a message around my neck that I do not understand. I started looking online for the most possible translations, but I got bored and waited for the next time I went to work. See, I knew that every Wednesday, when I have lunch with my friends, on the table next to ours sits always a group of Chinese colleagues, speaking Chinese, making me think of Beijing and how I ‘d love to be there again. One of them is my friend, so today I asked her what my necklace meant.

She said it read Rooster, or Chicken. Rooster is my Chinese horoscope sign. Now it all made sense, how this little chicken found its way to me, through merchants and stores, changing hands as long as it needed to end its journey, right here with me.

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