Beijing City Nights
There is something in the air that reminds me of China. Of home. The air is sour smelling, like a city in sickness. The smog of pollution and the trash in the streets, swept into the gutters, silently putrid in the summer humidity. The hum-drum noise of neighboring air conditioners in the night air. Crickets compete with the machinery. And that sour, sickly smell. My bedroom window is the window of my room in Beijing, open to the city, and the Beijing night life comes drifting in. Upon the sour, sickly air.
All this hot weather and pollution. The air really did smell weird. Now, do you trust me when I say it smelt like Beijing in the summer?