Either you are sorting it out, or you are full of it.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

When someone asks me what it means to live in China

I do not speak.

I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly

Like it’s the middle of winter

Watching my breath dissipate into the air

Lit with the glow of a million fireworks

Taking to the heavens in unison

Banging on the dome of the sky

With the hopes of a million people

Shuffling through the streets of vermillion

Kicking up the ash and empty mortars with their toes.

posted by ferret at 1:17 pm  

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