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Text :

With nightfall Hong Kong
puts out its stoves and
illuminates its lanterns.
Torpor becomes animation,
and with a silky rustle of
ballroom dresses the junks
brush up delicately against
the ferries in the bay. The
lights come on in the
markets, litle orchestras
gather in the squares
around the singers, with
their made-up faces and
their voices like
melancholy she-cats.
It's a different city, and
for those few hours
you begin to love it.