As I sit on the ferry awaiting departure to Mackinac Island, the smell of fuel combines with the gurgling of the motor and I am instantly transported back to Shanghai. Somewhere in my subconscious I anticipate the groaning of motorcycles, the stench of cigarettes, and the stares of bewildered locals to surround me.
But alas, they do not and I am present once again in the smoke and noise free interior of my Mackinac Island bound ferry. The hoards of motorcyclists and choking cigarette smoke that once accompanied me on my daring ferry commutes across the Huang Pu river hang in this tension of scent, sound and memory; and I am left to wonder if this will ever change. Will I ever be free of these intruders that seem to weave themselves through most of my thoughts and experiences?
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Oh How The View Changed!
Naaman Gray Kinney (2 Weeks)
Isaac Allen Kinney (2 Weeks)
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