Passing Through Your City - Anyang

The new leaves of plane trees along city streets flip their silver-coin undersides in the wind, while dappled sunlight through leaf veins dances on the faded signs of state-owned stores. The oily sheen of five-spice beans in glass cases gazes across at the milk foam from the neighboring bubble tea shop, while rainbow-hued water droplets hanging from plastic awnings fall perfectly onto baskets of dewy Chinese toon sprouts. Steam carrying jasmine tea fragrance wafts from riverside tea stalls, mingling with the earthy scent from the direction of Yin Ruins, brewing into an intoxicating spring evening air. The blue glow of ticket machines reflects off glass walls, casting flowing shadows of bronze vessel patterns. As the ticket gates swallow crowds, the bronze bells of Wenfeng Pagoda shake sunlight into scattered gold across the ground. Looking back from the high-speed rail station, the French plane trees on Liberation Avenue gleam bright green in the strong light, their shadows compressed into deep brown ink marks. The bronze bells of Wenfeng Pagoda sway gently in the wind, while bronze beast heads grip onto rays of sunlight. Suddenly remembering the fading white lilacs at the base of the Drum Tower - some flowers need not bloom until the end. This is how spring has always been in Anyang, with half-finished rhymes hidden in the cracks of oracle bones.