I remember Chongqing, it was a rainy day, I took a cab to an old village that was suggested to me by another foreigner I bumped to on the street. Ciqikou Village, old town with all the aestethics of what we understand to be Chinese, on the top of the mountain a buddhist temple. I walked and walked across town, upto the temple and then down the mountain to a river. I was walking two feet off the floor, my mind was everything, after probably an hour of walking I came across these kids that were waiting for their mothers who were rehearsing traditional chinese dance, at some point they started following me and I tried my best to get down to about their height and just play along, it was beautiful, pure, there was nothing to undestand that needed words, it was simple primitive connection, I remember Chongqing.