Accompaniment
by Joshua Tintner
I remember building spaceships, guns, and cars as a child. Chunky things, they all ended up resembling 1980s-era Volvos—but then you can’t expect Frank Gehry curves when you give a kid Legos. Maybe that’s why I never made Lego buildings. Erecting a building with Legos isn’t creating, it’s stacking. Turning boxes into bigger boxes.
Bat an eye, blink away 20-odd years, and I now live in one of those boxes-made-of-boxes. I’m walking into one of these sad behemoths, shuffling past the teenage security guard who thinks he’s a soldier. Above me, rows of windows rise like stale layer cakes into Shanghai’s “foggy” skies.
My girlfriend and I scamper into Building-12, one of its cavities being our current apartment. Good timing, as we are only slightly damp from the famous Shanghai Autumn drizzle. We’re both tired from the office, but I still notice a naughty smirk rising on my girlfriend’s glossy lips.
