I grew up in southern cities. Before I was 17, I lived along the southern coast; after 17, I came to Shanghai. It's a city full of sunshine and surging crowds, with chronically murky air, yet the silent sky between the skyscrapers has a clear color. In the evening, the Bund exudes an atmosphere of decadence, a materialistic decadence. Time and shattered dreams are buried together, fermenting endlessly, impossible to stop.
And every year, there's one season of typhoons, in August.