China

China is a mother, steamed buns in the back seat of my car.  The women smile just enough to make life interesting.  The men stop smoking just long enough to spit.  China wins by force of numbers, pregnant belly extending into the South China Sea.  Civilization wins by force of cities, the cell block organization, the weight of steel and concrete and will to conquer destroys everything but itself if it’s lucky.  The weakest people make the strongest nations, bound together like sticky rice, white sugar crystals incapable of independent existence.  They cling together for strength.  They fall apart over money.

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