Friday, March 17, 2006

I walk at a shallow angle to the wind with long dark coat flailing in the gusts and sand in my mouth. It's three in the morning having arrived back from a night which I shall expand on when it feels appropriate (2 quid all you can drink - this is ridiculous - my typing I hope gives away my current state.). The wind has grown to a vicious howl and the dust-devil the size of a building which my lift drove through on the way to the local station was a mere precursor to the evening's events. Beijing knows how to throw a curve ball weather-wise and I'm growing to expect the spectacular. Taxis through tornadoes, I return gob-smacked.

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