fishing

The morning dry, offering the possibilities of distance, a longer metro journey into unknown hills and alleys, finding  a stream winding through streets, following, fishermen gathered upon the banks, along fences and bridges as the road slopes upwards, passing temples and small shops, chained dogs barking, as the way narrows and steepens. Thinking that there's been a wrong turning at some point I'm relieved by the sighting of a signpost by the side of the road, a character which i recognise as shan, with the meaning, here, of mountain Time to leave the road, moving upwards upon broken steps and tree roots, metal rods which once held stone in place now protruding naked through the soil, awaiting the unwary step. The route climbs steeply, winds and turns back upon itself as it leads across the face of the hill, within depths of undergrowth, no views to be found of the surroundings.

Beneath feet small orange flowers sprinkled like faded stars along the path, larger whites as the path levels, somewhere ahead there's the sound of music, I wonder if it's the temple that I'd seen, that I'd set off in the hope of reaching, but then as I walk a little further it's not that type of music...a karaoke shack, then another, stone steps leading back down the hill, descending a narrow valley, the sound of water to the right, beneath the path, then fences around a group of allotments, another karaoke and a small temple. Some cars are parked, the end of another road, following it winding down the hillside, walking alongside the banks of another river, the city forming again as I round a corner, passing buses, outlying tower blocks and wasteland awaiting the first diggers of the transformation....