ancient chinese wisdom

Yesterday I missed my bus, again!
I've gotten bored of saying "FUCK!!" when this happens, so instead there I am, singing, "Henry the 8th I am, I am; Henry the 8th I am!" in a gruff and frustrated manner.
An middle-aged Chinese man chances upon me at this time, brave soul, and sits down at the bus stop. I tell him I've just missed the bus by one minute.
"Don't worry," he says, "you're fourteen mintues early for the next one."
I smile, and we get talking. He's visiting his daughter in the Mater hospital, he tells me. She is eighteen-years-old and has a rash from head to foot, as red as sunburn.
"They think she has Aquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome" he says in shaky English.
Shit, I think, AIDS. I wonder if he knows.
I have no ancient wisdom for him, so I tell him to send her my love.

On the bus, jammed between three old witches who smell too strongly of perfume and have square feet, I think about the Chinese man's daughter.

When he gets off at the hospital, I wave.