image: G. Camerotti
“Your bones are cold.”
It’s often too easy to slip into ‘small’ in Shanghai. The city heaves, flails and flourishes around you constantly and steadily, irregardless of you and your current state of mind.
I was feeling the ‘small’ one day early autumn, but picking myself up around me, I decidedly tried to heave myself out of the apartment and into the day ahead.
Slipping down the stairs of my little low-rise[1], I ramshackled myself onto the back lane on Yongfu Lu upon which the apartment lies. Upon hitting the cold, I was met by a little dust and a well-padded elderly lady.
She seized my arm. “Why are you wearing that?”
“What?”, I shortened, fallen leaves crackling at me.
“Your skirt.”
“What’s wrong with my skirt?”
“Your bones are cold.”
My memory-of-moments flash back to adolescent negotiations with my dear Mother over hem-lengths. Suddenly, I’m liking this new argument.
I clamour back to my apartment, return to the lane re-clothed, and there’s smiles, not small.
referenced works
- Though towering condominiums are the residences-of-choice for many newly moneyed Shanghainese, the traditional residences in the city remain the low-rise apartment blocks. Typically, these drab, utilitarian, concrete buildings are no more than five stories tall, with each level housing two or three apartments. Many still exist today in the former French Concession of Shanghai. ↩
location information
- Name: the lane outside her house
- Address: Lane 147 Yongfu Lu
- Time of story: Morning
- Latitude: 31.21137
- Longitude: 121.443987
- Map: Google Maps
014 “The pages are half-soaked in noodle water, the edges of the letters blurred. ”
013 “Hundreds of eyes continued to dart around me, hundreds of eyes continued to pass me over.”
012 “I could be anywhere, really. There are no landmarks here.”
011 “I strained to keep my eyes on that crazy perm but the automatic doors hissed shut and she was gone. ”
010 “How could these seemingly disparate worlds co-exist? Wouldn't they come together and explode like anti-matter?”
009 “It's strange how her hair seemingly reacts to her mood – her fountains wilt and slump when she is tired and grumpy. ”
008 “Your bones are cold.”
007 “Upon seeing the delinquent busker dragged from the scene with his trousers at his ankles, I felt lost. ”
006 “As we all stare at her open-mouthed, she starts to beg like a dog, barking and licking my hand. ”
005 “It's like... one long catwalk of H&M zombies. Where are all the individuals?”
004 “Like many aimless thirtysomethings, I balance violent fantasies of self-destruction with monthly pension payments. ”
003 “It was only a 10-minute bike ride from city centre, but 10 minutes in the wrong direction. ”
002 “I thought of the mutilated pig lying atop cardboard boxes of cereal and pasta, seeping trichinosis as the van bounced along. ”
001 “And then there is only tumbling, hexagonal cold.”
Write for Us!
We’re looking for short narratives describing pivotal moments of elation, confusion, absurdity, love or grief — or anything in between — inseparably tied to a specific place in Shanghai.
Shanghai:
Or receive updates by email
Addresses only used for the occational hitotoki mailing. Otherwise shoved behind the pitch black toilet in Boonna Cafe II.
A list of all available RSS feeds is on the about page
commentary