Perhaps you’ve missed out on your world travels due to COVID. But, don’t fret. Quintus is here to give you a tour of beautiful Shanghai.—Second Editor-in-Chief Sara Habibipour
By Quintus Ni, Shanghai Editor
Looking at Shanghai from a commanding height, the alleys in Shanghai are spectacular.
When it’s dark and the lights are on, these points and lines are bright. Behind the light, large areas of darkness are the alleys in Shanghai, the darkness seems to be almost rough, almost pushing the light away.
The brilliance of Oriental Paris is based on the darkness.
As the morning light comes on, the light goes out. First, there is a thin fog; light is a straight light, drawn out, like fine brushwork. The first to jump out is the skylight on the roof of the old alley. They have a delicate and clever appearance in the morning fog. The wooden frame of the window is carved carefully. The tiles on the house are of fine workmanship. The rose in the flowerpot on the windowsill is carefully cultivated. Then, the sun comes out, revealing the rusty red bricks, which seem to be in a painting. Every painting is clear. Then cracks appear on the gable, and there is a little green moss. The first ray of sunshine is on the gable. It’s a beautiful picture, almost gorgeous and desolate; it’s fresh and old.
The lanes in Shanghai are varied in shape and sound. Sometimes they are like that; sometimes they are like this; they can’t agree. In fact, they are constantly changing and changing. In the end, there are thousands of people, thousands of faces, and one mind.
The houses on the alleys look like row upon row, crowded and crowded. The lights are like peas. Though weak, they are dense and like a pot of porridge. They are also like a big river with numerous tributaries, and like a big tree with countless branches. They are crisscrossed and crisscrossed, which is a big net. On the surface, they are exposed, but, in fact, they are mysterious and have a tortuous heart.
At dusk, pigeons hover in the air of Shanghai, looking for their nests. The ridge of the roof is continuous and undulating, and it looks like a peak from the horizontal to the vertical. Standing on the commanding height, they are all connected, boundless, and some of the southeast and northwest are indistinguishable. The roof ridges flow like water.
There are whispers on the sun terrace, balcony and window side. It’s better to stand at a high point and find a good angle: the clothes on the bamboo poles in the lane are full of personal feelings. The Impatiens, gem flowers, and green garlic cascade from flowerpots. The gully-like bottoming is made of cement or stone.
The feeling of Shanghai Lane comes from the most daily of scenes, which is not stirred by clouds and water, but accumulated bit by bit. There are some unexpected and reasonable things flowing in the lanes. Things are not big things, but they are trivial. Sand gathering can also make a tower. It has nothing to do with such concepts as history. Even unofficial history is hard to be called. It can only be called rumor. Rumor is another view of Shanghai Lane. It is almost visible, and it is also revealed from the back window and back door. What the front door and front balcony reveal is a little more serious, but it is also a rumor. These rumors are close to the skin and flesh, not as cold and rigid as the old paper pile. Although there are many fallacies, they are also perceptible fallacies. When the street lights of this city are brilliant, there is usually only one light on the corner in the lane, with the most common iron cover. The cover is rusty and covered with dust. The light is dim and yellow, and there are some smoky things breeding and spreading below. The pigeons mumble in the cage, as if they are also whispering. The light on the street is right, but it is eaten by the dark just as it is about to flow into Nongkou.
In the end, the sun is spurting from the roof, which is a spectacular collection of the countless pieces of Shanghai.
Edited by Sara Habibipour
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