The other day, a jaunt, a stroll, an aimless meandering through the lower hutongs of Qianmen, a Pekinese dérive from one microclimate to another, propelled by an uncertain impetus later framed by the symbol B-I-C-Y-C-L-E. Unsure at first of a theme I shortly found myself directed by the derelict, the discarded or neglected, the accumulating dust, the frames and wheels. Here are a few of the creatures I came across. Perhaps they have a story and a resonance, for they are denizens of Beijing’s history.
michaelcaster 