There are no lights in the parks of Taiwan tonight. Instead, there are glowing orbs of tiger heads floating closer and closer. They’re blurred to me. I fear them not for they pose no danger to me. They’re only children carrying their trophies, dangling fake heads on the ends of sticks. It’s Lantern Festival in the Year of the Tiger. Firecrackers crack above in pretty floral patterns. I blink at the sudden flashes of bright lights. The sounds of the big drum approach from a distance, above the music. I’m blinded by the neon-lit parade trucks, which sit like glittering bookends. This shelf of books features a rat, an ox, a tiger, a rabbit, a dragon, a snake, a horse, a sheep, a monkey, a rooster, a dog, and a boar. I watch and I marvel at the spectacle of a culture rich in public displays, my culture. The bench I sit on feels like a second home to me. Well it is my home, now that I’ve lost my job, my family, and my sense of self-worth. But I’m happily homeless tonight. Let’s welcome in the new, out with the old. I settle back in my nest of cardboard and plastic bottles. Another milestone passes me by.