Typhon signal no. 1 hoisted early in the morning while the mid-night rain stopped. Round the corner of the residential building cool gale howled from time to time. I slipped in through the slightly opened gate at the entrance of the park, and met no one else except a couple of joggers jogged on the damp pathway. The park was quiet while the birds chirped to cheer to have it all left to them. I hurried to the basketball field, and as expected that it was empty under the metal canopy while the bench I used to sit for painting gathered with water. I swept away the water and overlaid newspaper and plastic sheet before settling to paint in complete serenity when the oldies were absent. Instead of extending the view towards where the oldies were, I decided to depict the treetops of the trunks that were sketched yesterday. Lifting my head up to observe the view above was painful and dizzy, yet I had to be patiently get hold of the time before more people might arrive. The diagonal edge of the metal canopy and the horizontal glass window of the mega building assisted me to allocate the network of the complex branches. Then I laid immediately watercolors in various greens to identify the layers of the lumpy foliage. The old guy came to exerciser on the next bench telling me that it was time to go, though I tried to paint a few stokes more without success.