reflections on a windy shanghai night

Sometimes

when i am lying in bed

in my cosy red and white doll's house of a flat

with its old windows to the street outside

I close my eyes

and listen to the sounds around me...

the hum of life in this city of 20 million

the yelling in a language I still don’t understand

the sounds of drilling
of building
of growth
a pace I can’t keep up with

laughter

bicycle bells ringing

children crying in the lane

the street cleaner truck on its nightly routine

or hearing the neighbours practicing the piano

or watching the news on full volume

the sound of the wok

and the faint smell of smokey kebabs from the street vendor outside


I lay there

in my hard bed
(that is supposed to be good for me)

and I see the street light shadow on my wall

and I feel in that moment as if I am lying in the hollow of a beautiful hand

an infinitesimal speck

in a gigantic, living, breathing body

so huge

so vast

that I can never fathom it

or my place within it


But I feel safe
lying there

Protected

listening...