Dear All,
Sunset and sunrise, its party in the park time below our apartment.
“Wave your hands in the air, like you just don’t care” kicks off around 17:55 and is a freestyle, optional, drop in dance session for mad-ravers of all ages. In the shadow of the King’s Palace several competing/complimenting maestros of the dance hold court, each with their own set of followers. I sometimes waddle along, it’s far more accessible then Falun Gong.
Sunrise, “Matadors of the Morning” push both their and my envelopes even further. Every magical day around 05:43 a troop of six or seven white clad, red sash wearing and sword wielding men and women take to the stage for a more cultured aerobic display. Their boom box is big and their beats a mixture of counting (English unfortunately), traditional songs and the echoed bellowing of their dear leader. With the fog of morning and my head sandwiched between two foamy pillows I often wake prematurely, nervously wondering if perhaps my government really has abandoned me...
Leave it on the dance floor,
Mw
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