ochre rows

Rounding the corner between 国子监 Guozijian and 方家胡同 Fangjia Hutong was always good for 邂逅 (a chance encounter) with the 吼卖 man (singing street peddler). The interval of time caused by the narrowness of a hutong doorway and the speed of my bike was good for a gestalt of all the goings-on-about-town. Barreling through the last warren of alleyways the composite wrought of old men spinning diabolos, cicada and cricket bricolage, huddled chess mobs and the throbbing of motors and electronics — I caught and reworked it best I could, tried to capture how it rattles about in ones mind symphonic; how after you've retired to the blue still of wherever you may abide adumbrations of the day rise up like phantasms in echoes and afterthoughts.


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Alleyways or synapses of the collective mind?
submitted by WMC, 25 year old male student
5 min, by bicycle, once a day