Subtitle: short lateral streams of consciousness During the fortnight-long experience Beijing.
Terminal 2 at ten at night is deserted. In the program there are only a couple of flights, both within a few hours. One way to Moscow, one in Brussels. I walk down the wide spaces between the benches abandoned. The almost total absence of people, combined with the background of air conditioning and a chattering away, it makes me think of being in an American film series B of the '80s. Anyone out there still exist?
My phone says that the signal of China Mobile comes loud and clear, so I reassure her and wait.
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- Which airport? One, two or three?
- er! , say mandatory.
In taxi with me there's a guy Slovenian, also a student at the Summer School. I've never seen, and I do not want to see him now, so I look out the window. I do not know how, but I feel a rare Magone.
Beijing becomes gradually suburbs and highway, while the radio transmits programs on Saturday evening, all of a sudden I seem familiar.
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- Hey, the Koreans Should Know this song!
- Yeah, Maybe They Are NORTH Koreans!
[laughs]
I'm sitting on a comfortable sofa and large, probably the only Italian city to hear the song. Before me there I am a girl of Calgary and a type of Long Beach.
Madison, the girl has a nice face, long hair red hair and blue eyes, exactly what I expect from a Canadian girl.
Yao, type, is of Asian origin, I would say the south-east Asia but its relationship with Los Angeles is seen from a mile away.
She sings Michael Jackson, he dances. In reality we are all singing on the couch: they are what they perform. The karaoke is just getting started, 200 yuan for one hour.
With ten people in the room, represented all the continents except Africa and the awareness that Beijing is out there in the evening, you can not enjoy it like crazy.
