scarecrow

after work, 11:00, i ate in this single-dirty-room restaurant where a crosseyed dongbeiren thought of himself as that agnostic scarecrow i read about once. When you're a foreigner people here are enthusiastic about your nation's football, and i love them even feeling bothered (and i'm sorry about it) and i just hope they'll shut up while i'm eating and stealing their romantic baking-dumplings-face with my camera. When they catch me doing it, they'll ask about how much i paid it, the camera. Not much, i say. I just want to eat.