A text to let me know that the air outside is
getting “worse.” “The air outside is
hazardous to sensitive groups.” Lovely. I confront the air quality as a physical and
not just a mental compromise these days.
I used to hate the idea. “Yeah. It’s bad out there.” Now I seem to feel the implications. I have been warned. This winter will invariably get even
worse. I must remind myself that I,
unlike most of the citizens, do have a choice.
The exit I usually take at
Yanglin was blocked with yellow pylons, for one hundred meters up, as we
approached. The cab driver suggested and
I was beginning to concur that I wouldn’t be getting off at my normal locale. But fifty yards up, near a break in the pylons
one car braved the turn and then two more followed. My guy reluctantly made the turn as well and
we were back on the pre-prescribed path.
It’s late. Easy to dart back from the city when it’s
late. The ride is under thirty
minutes. The lights all seem to turn for
you one, after the other. It’s good
we’re moving fast because the music this guy is playing is particularly
awful. Anthemic bar chords and
predictable braying that seem like the worst sort of shanzhai appropriation, soulless, stripped soulless. Perhaps it’s all very fresh for my
driver.
I don’t mind tearing into
the city at midnight and then back out again.
It’s all rather straight forward at this hour. There are no lines. Lights seem to turn colors more quickly and
thoughts can go elsewhere beyond why it is you’re not moving faster. We turn off to my road. No one is on the street at this hour. The supermarket that is usually gill-stuffed
with cars at odd angles and there are no cars.
Everyone is home now, breathing.
The guards wave me in.
Tuesday, 09/12/17
No comments:
Post a Comment