The Third Infusion

The Third Infusion

I am a traveller here. Which is to say: I am temporarily unburdened. Back home, I am a port supervisor. I work with tide tables, cargo manifests, and radios crackling with instructions. I have spreadsheets, rosters, and responsibilities. Here, in Anxi, I am simply a man in the hills drinking tea. And that is a kind of disguise.
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Heat and Dust

Heat and Dust

On the overpasses, cars crawl through the mirage, each one a sealed bubble of air-conditioned defiance. But the city doesn’t care. The heat is indifferent, eternal. It radiates from the concrete, rises in waves from the road, presses down from above: a three-dimensional sauna of light and dust. Somewhere behind all that sun-glare, the desert waits, unchanged and unimpressed. Continue reading Heat and Dust