The closer to the market, the narrower the way, the noisier, and more people jumped into the view. Some walked, some drove, some rode and some pedaled too. The nearer their fi gures drew, the obscurer their faces were. Very few Mei knew and many seemed indiff erent. They were neighbors, near or far. Yet Mei felt herself a complete outsider. She was still a stranger to this small village as though she had never existed. The civilization of this world was merely noise pollution.
Mei turned away from those faces. She slowed, looking further into the distance. The coming and going shadows began to bubble up and then blow away. The colors of various plants, wild or not, kicked the inner wall of her vision, which alternately distracted her. A withered, bare kapok tree rising to the sky from a memorial temple, attracted her most. The bareness of the single presence of the kapok stirred her softest memories of Bing.