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    “The further one goes, the less one knows.”  ― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching Very early on a Monday morning, my friend DH and I wandered through the cluttered, closed down streets of Hong Kong's Wan Chai neighborhoods. We walked past old men, sound asleep in a kitchen chair propped against an old mechanics shop setup in what clearly used to be someone's home and probably still is. Past old, broken down cars with names I've never heard before and into a sudden yet sullen surrounding of pure, uninhibited peace. Here, stands the oldest temple in all of Hong Kong. The temple is a Taoist temple and its very existence was every definition of Tao I cannot express. For the Tao is something that has no expectation and therefore no real description other than to be as it is, in that moment. With an old woman silently folding strings of paper origami together and a mostly toothless man sitting ever so quietly in the dark, you almost wonder if you were allowed to enter. But, no one complains. You are part of the moment. You are part of this being - right here, right now. At the alter kneels a woman, reciting the poetry of Taoist mantras in her own language and bowing quickly, again and again like the Buddhist prayers. Everyone is welcome here. Few things are kept up. Most of the walls have partially fallen. And in this room, full of large incense baskets smoking from the ceiling, bathed in morning light, the floor has given away to mud and the old man has stored his latter. And somehow, it's exactly as it should be.