Winter and Snow

Christmas Day comes and goes. In the morning we wake up to the sight of snow covered trees. The light dusting doesn't last long; the sun comes out and turns powder into drops. I hadn't seen snow for a year. In Beijing there was an awful amount of snow. Any amount of snow is awful in Beijing, or at least in Xidan. It just stays were it  is and gets dirty. Xidan snow is some of the dirtiest snow I've seen. Which is funny because there isn't really any dirt to be found in the center of the city.

All that grimey vileness is coming from the air. That's what makes Xidan snow so upalatable; it gives you some glimpse of what's happening to your lungs except you've been here a hell of a lot longer than that pile of snow.

It makes me think about Dreams of the Red Chamber and Waterboy. Characters in both those classics believe in different types of waters. Magic spells require more than mere water. They require water that's poperly sourced; the North Pole, the first snow, rain that fell on Tomb Sweeping day.

I find the idea cute. And then I look outside. I can think of few ways better to kill  a man than serving him tea made from Xidan snow: that patch of snow outside Joy City where the Apple Store is across from Zara's.

In Chengdu I don't think it snowed, I can't remember. Maybe I can't remember it because it was white; it doesn't stand out. Chengdu is such a clean city.

Wuhu snow is still young. If there's ever a blizzard, I want to go down to the banks of the Yangtze and it engulf the rusting hulks pressing upriver to Chongqing or downriver to Shanghai. Even then I imagine young lovers would still be standing beside the river sending Kongmingdeng up into the heavens.