The national anthem, played so often, stuck in a groove. Whatever their future holds, it may lie somewhere else. The kid with the kite gives up, leaving only some boys playing at the most sheltered of the table tennis tables. Time for my Chinese lesson. Outside the wind dies.
Bats whirl in the gloom.
Later I too will venture out and claim the running track, to run my own rings in the dark. This article is one of a regular series of 'letters' from readers living all over the world. Writers are invited to submit articles of no more than 850 words. Please enclose a self-addressed envelope if you would like your manuscript to be returned.