852

back in the eight hundred fifty two. this place i call home.
buildings, towers, skyscrapers. such great heights.
people, people, more people. the city never dies.
oh humidity. how you instantly poof up my hair.
and pollution. how you fuse my lungs with toxin.

but how i miss the bickering of locals. lost in translation.
i'm one happy misfit. stranger than fiction.
food is too good. super size me.
cheapness is a virtue. slumdog millionaire.

when you breathe, live and grow with it.
you become one with it.
and i love it to death.

ngo oi nei, heng gong.