Streets of old Dhaka are black with grease. Hands too. Heaps of scrap metal, or perhaps these are car parts?
Fighting chickens, pickup trucks, water buffaloes. Dusty field behind a village in the North. The sun has barely risen, but the cattle market is already slowly winding down.
The air is like a sticky syrup sweetened with foreign hydrocarbons. Thick with fog. Always thick with fog. Look at the river with no other side and breathe__in the fastest growing city in mainland China. Breathe in__Chongqing.
Moluccas. The sweet Spice Islands.
The tide is out. Few hundred metres of exposed black wet sand. Shoes in the hand, feet in the shallow surf.
