return to words

I stopped writing for a while; I lost sense of purpose in writing. I felt I was restricting myself in my writing. I wanted to say a lot more, and also less. That wordless cloud has passed. My fear was that it pointless in the onslaught of social media; the fear subsided. Pointfullness is a hopeless struggle.

Anyway, I spent some time recently in Shanghai, where I discovered the building in these photos. 1933 is it's name. A former slaughter house of concrete that makes my mind run wild with sci-fi imaginings. Now full of boutique shops, cafes and random spaces in progress.

I found China (Beijing and Shanghai) made New York feel like a pale shadow of capitalism in comparison. There's a lot of money in China, a lot of action, a lot happening. A strong sense of the country growing, blossoming. Coming back to New York, I found a new affection for this city. It's darkness and brokenness.