The three of us – Terry, Ivy and I - are in my apartment on the thirteenth floor high above the sleeping metropolis that is Shanghai. The lights are turned off and the glass doors are wide open and a breeze, the warm moist breath of the city plays across my face, bringing with it the smell of gasoline and sea salt, the expressway hum, the hoot of a tug on the Huangpu River. It is fifty-seven minutes before dawn of the summer equinox and the skyscrapers loom dark and hard against the lightening sky.
The three of us – Terry, Ivy and I - are in my apartment on the thirteenth floor high above the sleeping metropolis that is Shanghai. The lights are turned off and the glass doors are wide open and a breeze, the warm moist breath of the city plays across my face, bringing with it the smell of gasoline and sea salt, the expressway hum, the hoot of a tug on the Huangpu River. It is fifty-seven minutes before dawn of the summer equinox and the skyscrapers loom dark and hard against the lightening sky.