Rain and neon, a woman in a pink cardigan yells on the subway carriage. Pollution stings my throat. Crunchy Uighur bread, the sudden scent of floors from a garland at a newly-opened convenience store in a gust of wind. Choking dust and jackhammers. Boys in tightly fitted sweaters and girls in plunging neckline dresses worn over demure white turtlenecks. Walking throigh the street market I see turtles and eels splashing, hear the low vibrating chorus of crickets in their bamboo cages. A man sells a freshly slaughtered fish on a sheet of plastic on the the footpath and galaxy note pings, while laundry flutters in the breeze. An old man spits, a horn honks, an instagram gets liked.
Shanghai senses: a stream of consciousness31 10 2016