Shanghai as a Stained Glass Window
Built in the architraves of state capital, supported by the buttresses of individual finance and ruthless commodity optimization, you were consecrated by a a great secret society of builders, chipping away the stones of a great ideological edifice. Here what is worshiped cannot speak its name, lost in the change and grow, the ebb and flow.
Shanghai, your streets are of leaden solder, and between them crystalline patches of light, colors of amber desire, aquamarine sympathy, purpled whispers, vermillion hatreds and hopes as green as the forest.
The onlookers are wowed and cowed, looking at this vision that they can only name, but they cannot understand.