The Children and the Witch – a short story from China.

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After a happy, prolonged period of stabilisation and life-altering romance, I finally bid farewell to Belgium in the summer of 2009. Uninspired by life in grey, uneventful Brussels, my girl and I headed off to China for an unforgettable year of teaching and travelling.

“You wanna Jeans?” shrieked a faceless woman as we sauntered down the aisle. “Hello T-shirt!” barked another, as an anxious looking man abandoned his shoe stall to expertly step in front of me. “You like shoe, many shoe, hot brand cheap shoe best price”, he said, barely even looking at me. “No thank you” I smiled, moving around him.

“This place is huge!” cooed S, the two of us stopping to get our bearings. Nearby a doddery old German couple, the dictionary definition of Born Yesterday, handed over 800 RMB for a woollen jumper. The seller, hardly able to keep a straight face, literally snatched the cash out of the man’s hands.

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