Taipei – June 12, 2024

The president’s office blushes against the still-dark sky. The police lights brighter yet, always.

In the streets behind, a small group, laughing, struts through the refuse of a night just now ending.

Under the highway and the horizons explode, mountains in the distance, the marsh and the river an infinity of greens punctured by small yellow flowers and the shimmer of glass spires.

The sky whispers pink and soft blue.

For a stretch, the wetlands lighten under a sky that grows orange. A bird kills a snake and sucks it down.

Then, around the long bend, the heavens open. White light burns through the clouds and scours the distant morning city and its tower, which summons you return.