sunday, 6th march

Look here, board.  Sentimental weathers are nothing to a Shanghai breeze.  Fingers lick but no children dance.  Idiots walk the streets, blossoms in their hair.  Hairs, I should say.  Living tentacles of mankind reaching out and ensnaring.  Distasteful is what it's called.  Foreign junk over a sea of air petroleum.  Ring the changes and see how you love it.