土地公神位(蓮峰街)

sketchfab

I was strolling through Wanchai Park when I stumbled upon a crumbling temple dedicated to the Goddess of the Soil. As I approached, I noticed that it had been ravaged by machinery and was now nothing more than a pile of rubble. A sense of unease washed over me as I thought about the fate of this sacred site. I decided to visit an elderly woman who lived nearby, hoping she could provide some insight into the situation. She greeted me with a mixture of sadness and frustration, her eyes red from crying. "Why do they keep persecuting us?" she asked, her voice trembling with anger. As we sat down to talk, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "It's just a matter of fate," I said, trying to lighten the mood. But my words fell flat, and the old woman shot back, "Fate? You think that's an excuse?" She began to recount her experiences with the Goddess of the Soil, from her childhood days playing in the park to her later years when she would often visit the temple. She spoke of how the community had always revered the goddess, adding bricks and mortar to the temple over the years. But as time went on, things changed. The government began to see the goddess as a nuisance, and the once-peaceful community was suddenly plagued by conflict. The old woman's eyes welled up with tears as she spoke of how the authorities had removed the temple, leaving nothing but a vacant lot in its place. I couldn't help but feel a sense of outrage on her behalf. "This is madness!" I exclaimed. But my outburst only seemed to enrage her further. "You're just like them," she spat. "You don't care about our culture or traditions." As we continued to argue, I realized that there was more at play here than just a simple land dispute. The old woman's passion and conviction were rooted in a deep sense of loyalty and duty towards the community. She saw herself as a guardian of sorts, tasked with protecting the temple and its history. But as the years went by, the government's attitude towards the temple only grew more hostile. They saw it as a relic of the past, a symbol of a bygone era that needed to be erased. The old woman knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she refused to back down. As we parted ways, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her unwavering spirit. She may have been just an ordinary citizen, but in her eyes, she was a warrior, defending the sacred against all odds.