Red is an old-fashioned colour

Red is such an old-fashioned colour.

It’s the Qigong Chicken Form. I can teach you.

The library is my favourite place.

We bring our songbirds here every day between 6am and 11am.

That lady was speaking Shanghainese, so there are not only migrant workers living here.

The (eight lane) road cuts straight through our campus and makes it difficult. There’s so much traffic.

The station’s not an easy place to pick up passengers, nowhere to pull in, too many barricades.

There were many snakes and they ate the mice. Now there are many mice.

The Bus Station is a good place for people watching.

All the vegetables in the market are locally grown in the Shanghai suburbs.

We’re worried about this new mobile phone mast. We think it will be damaging to people’s health.

The biodiversity is already damaged. And people are still coming.

The ‘mile’ as a western concept.

I don’t mind you filming here so long as you don’t give a bad impression of our recycling centre…… Would you like to go into business with me?

A stone from other hills can serve to polish the jade of this one.

I am a foreigner.

The fashion for overly manicured green spaces comes from the European influence in Shanghai.

My mood is different on the way home from school.

I go to the park three times a day.

My room-mates and I sometimes go to the South Station for a meal.

We’re plaiting white rope made from discarded clothes. She cuts the strips while I weave them.

This used to be a place to breed horses, but after the Cultural Revolution it was made it into a park for the people.

He’s telling fortunes with his turtle.

Cream Prune Deops.

11pm, lights out.

The sinister mast

Sinister mast

Making white rope

Plaiting white rope in the park

Qigong Chicken Form master

Qigong Chicken Form master

1 comment to Red is an old-fashioned colour

  • Kathryn Edwards

    Aah, thank you! Have read this several times today, enjoying it as a rich soundtrack somehow more vivid than a visual image.

    Meanwhile, London’s British Library is advertising a lunchtime event entitled ‘Sounds like winter’:

    ‘December means different things to different people. Chanukah, Eid ul-Adha, the Nativity, Winter Solstice, Yuletide, rutting stags, pantomime and busy shops are just some of the memories evoked by the mere mention of that time of year which means so much to so many. Drawing from the extensive sound collections of the British Library Sound Archive, enjoy lively discussion – and hear – what this seasonal time of year brings, through radio, music, wildlife sounds, spoken word recordings and more.’

    How to understand or interpret a place or culture? Your Wei Yingwu poem is an up-to-the-minute account of a stroll on Hampstead Heath, and yet I have no idea what slice of the diversity of life is in yesterday’s glass jar . . .

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