Lev, an experienced wanderer of sorts, traverses the clamorous narrow streets of Chinatown. Never in all his voyages had he experienced anything like it. The air buzzed with an unfamiliar symphony - the singsong Cantonese weaving through the rhythmic clatter of mahjong tiles, the melodic blaring of car horns a counterpoint to the sizzle of unseen street food. A deluge of color assaulted his senses; crimson lanterns bobbed overhead, shop windows overflowing with kaleidoscopic silk brocade, and firecrackers dangling from twine snaked across the enduring alleys promising a vibrant chaos. Intrigued, Lev went deeper into the graceful upheaval. The sweet, yeasty aroma of freshly baked buns mingled with the pungent spice of Sichuan peppers. He stopped, mesmerized, by a display of glistening Peking duck hanging in a window, their lacquered skin reflecting the neon signs that bled onto the street. A wizened woman emerges from a shop, her smile as warm as the steam billowing from bamboo steamers stacked precariously high. She hands Lev a bubbling bowl of sweet and sour soup. Captivated by the enticing aroma of hoisin drenched scallions and ginger, he indulges in the sumptuous offering. Satiated but invigorated, Lev emerged from the heart of Chinatown, the beat of its drum marked unforgettable.

notes by tim small, qui apporte la joie