Dopamine

Art is a kind of drug.

Lunch by My Little Airport

Growing Up in Fantasies

Immersed in Cantopop culture—primarily music and movies—I grew up indulging in fantasies of romance, bromance, and action. These stories were captivating, yet they were ultimately just fiction. I never stopped to view the worlds they depicted through the lens of regulations or laws. Instead, I drowned myself in endless romantic songs, the perfect sanctuary for a teenager tasting the bittersweet flavors of crushes and love for the first time.

Reality in the Details

Fast forward to 2019: my first visit to Hong Kong. What stands out in my memory isn’t the city’s glossy facade, but its air conditioning, humid climate, and unpredictable weather (unlike its future). It was in these unremarkable details that I encountered reality. Reality, I realized, isn’t cinematic. It’s made up of billions of fleeting moments—a glance exchanged with a stranger on the street, the subtle intonation in a conversation. These nuances, impossible to fully capture in fiction, form the true fabric of life. Ironically, they’re the very things tech and capital feverishly strive to replicate and commodity.

This time, walking those same streets today, I feel comfortably numb, noticing things I had overlooked before. The city and the bookshelf feel different now (for obvious reasons), and perhaps it’s me who has changed.

A Song

Years ago, I was addicted to the song 今宵多珍重, enchanted by Nicole’s beautiful voice and the “ancient” speech it carried: “Unprecedented though this moment in history may be, we have the utmost confidence in the abilities and resilience of the Hong Kong people.” We all know what followed. History keeps marching forward, its relentless certainty unyielding. Each day becomes a piece of the past. Some went to jail, others locked themselves in a shapeless prison of their own. Don’t we all carry a cage of some kind? Is my body the cage, or is it my mind?

A Night

The show I attended was the best night I’ve had in years. I was fully immersed in the moment. There were no extravagant stage designs, just raw music and songs, delivered in the simplest and most honest way. The awkwardness, the introversion, the sense of being lost—it reflected my own journey of growing up. It was achingly real. I don’t feel the desire or motivation to attend another show anytime soon. For now, I just need to step aside and capture something more meaningful.

The Dopamine Trap

Yet, a troubling thought lingers. What if all of this—this music, this experience—is just another form of dopamine consumption? What if it’s joy for the sake of joy, a distraction from confronting deeper truths?Am I using these fleeting moments to avoid facing myself? Is this another utopia I’ve created, not to live in but to hide in? Today, it’s easy to get “high”—whether through showbiz, literature, or bizarre entertainment. Each need is precisely targeted, commercialized, and fulfilled. I don’t feel pain anymore, but in the process, I’ve become lonelier than ever.

I feel like I’ve overconsumed dopamine. Now, it’s time to confront the emptiness. I’ve come to realize it’s better to live in a “low-frequency” world, where the intake and output are deliberate, not dictated by the relentless pace of modern life. It’s not just the difference between analog and digital; it’s about frequency. A slower, steadier rhythm that aligns with who I truly am, rather than what the world demands me to be.