Life Imitates Art!

OK, so there I am, this morning, deep into writing my new novel wherein I've got my hero living on a junk in among the sleek white launches at Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club, and so decide to go down there in person to Causeway Bay to see if it's possible to get a large old junk into that breakwater ...

... only to discover:

That's how I described the junk, even down to the green tiled pagoda at the back.

Now there's a problem. Everyone will think that whoever owns this real life junk is the model for my hero, but I swear, hand over my heart, that I did not know that junk existed, and definitely didn't know it was inside that breakwater.

But there's more.  In the second chapter of my novel, my heroine stands at the railings on the shore at RHKYC, looking out at the smoggy view of TST and notices a Tanka fisherman on a sampan throwing out his nets and white egrets fly out to see what he's after.  And so, after getting such a shock at seeing my fictional junk existed in real life, I stopped by the RHKYC for a drink, and while standing at the railings I saw this:

Can you see him there?  My fictional Tanka fisherman? No?  Well, here's another shot:

However, in my novel, the fisherman is much closer to shore, but those egrets were also there and also went over to see what he was after, but I didn't get a shot of the hovering.
 

But if you want to see the egrets, here's another shot ... which also the smoggy view she's looking at:

Writers are forever saying how scary it is how whatever they're writing appears to manifest itself in real life, and a lot even talk about writerly responsibility. I think I've even posted on this in the past but I doubt I could ever find that post again.

Still, there you go:  although I wouldn't ever dream of calling this novel ART, nonetheless life is still imitating it!