I can’t remember when I fell in love with Shanghai. When I landed last summer, in a taxi flying over the highway to downtown. A sunday of september lost in the alleyways of the French Concession. In a lift to the rooftops, down to the streets running under the rainfalls. Shanghai eructs and splits, Shanghai is not classy, materialistic like a demanding Er Nai. But you can feel it rumbling in your guts, keeping you excited. Shanghai is amazingly alive.
 




















 
 
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