I was packing up my house and found a postcard I wrote in Beijing.
I’m hanging out in the Winter Palace at the moment. The guy on the other side of this postcard [above] isn’t here; but it's still nice. Willows hang over a still grey lake. The smog gives the city on the far side a tranquil charm. The chilled air carries the sound of tape recording of an Erhu –that stereotypical Chinese string instrument–. One could almost forget that behind the veil of pollution are skyscrapers and 17 million people.
I hope the world has been kind to you and this postcard reaches you before I do.
I never posted that card. Hi Mum!
It really did feel like that. I'm heading to Beijing in March of 2014; I would like to feel this again.