The faux leather anorak pulled awkwardly over his hands, legs bound with a blue scarf, he sat, painfully, the train swaying from side to side. I couldn't help looking, and he craned his head to look at me. I felt someone else's stare and looked up. Two men, one small and chubby, the other with a long thin shrewd looking stare, standing in the gap between the carriages, taking a deep toke on his cigarette, held between his ring and third finger. Glancing behind, I noticed that the dining car was filled with police, who seemed to move, coming closer. Prisoner, smokers and police looked keenly at me, the foreigner, the source of entertainment after midnight on the train from Chengdu. They all knew the situation and so did I - the toilet door wouldn't close.
... read more