WEIGHT: 65 kg
Services: Fetish, Blow ride, Cunnilingus, Sub Games, Lapdancing
Ko-Jin goes west from Ko-kaku-ro, The smoke-flowers are blurred over the river. His lone sail blots the far sky.
And now I see only the river, The long Kiang, reaching heaven. If Li Bai C. And it would not be a lone sail blotting the horizon, but major river shipping, passing through on its way from Shanghai to Chongqing. A few hundred kilometres upstream is the Three Gorges Dam project, now well and truly underway: buildings blasted, population relocated, the water rising, the gorges shrinking.
With the ascendancy in the Sinophone world of the Latin-based pinyin system, introduced by the Chinese communists in to improve literacy, a poet named Li Bai has begun to appear in Anglo-Saxon discourse. The rise of an urban middle class in China has brought with it, if on a small scale, a concomitant disaffected youth with enough money to buy Gibson copies and Zildjian cymbals.
But the real punks in the city are the taxi drivers auditioning as stunt-men, with unwilling extras in the back. Oncoming traffic is no obstacle to attempts to beat the car in front. And if there is a rule against overtaking on the inside, then Wuhan Punk spits on it. Lanes here are as flexible as the ideal working arrangement in the 21st century. Bus drivers are professors of breakneck public transport; four-wheel drives stall in the middle of the traffic; a silver minibus skews to a stop across two lanes.
A red Alfa Romeo, built under licence, shears into a column of cyclists who halt momentarily, then swerve around it. Cars and buses cut off down bike lanes; cyclists take diagonal trajectories across four-lane highways.