Guilin Turning Point

Onwards through Guilin then, on concrete footbridges


decorated with frogs that looked poised to be kissed into princes


and a spectacular pair of towering pagodas guarding the entrance of either river or lake


that came together


and parted again, a perfect transfer of themselves.


And once then, I came across a girl: bedraggled and barefoot who rooted unashamedly in bins, and then a small plump boy with spectacles and a Harry Potter T-shirt, even here. It was then, maybe, at that moment that my life changed. I turned a corner and encountered this:


a dead end filled with parked motor bikes and ending in a wall. I knew then that what I loved the most: the idea of walls, and dragons, and strange tall castles and the fantasies of small boys and larger ones (and girls), and I knew then that I wouldn't write a book on silk that no one much wanted, but a book on a quest for something strange and maybe wonderful.