Lately I overhear whispers from the other side, snippets of the goings-on. The streets are wet with rain there, as here. People rush by. Here I sit at my desk for hours, bruised by fluorescent light. There, giant lanterns beckon ponderously in the wind, and I know I will stop for a minute at the temple, searching for a cat to cajole. Red glow from vertical signs and grill smoke from tented alleys along the train station, two ghosts haunt the city together. I know where I am, here. But I want to be there, lost.