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Qing Ming, the Grave Sweeping Festival: Tonight there
are fireworks, bangers and rockets – exploding in weeping willow
bursts of falling sparkles. Others fizzle and crackle like falling
glitter, and silhouette the lego-layered city-scape.
The students seem uninterested in the whole thing,
but the next day all the fruit and veg sellers along the road are
gone. One salesman tells me that he has been back all the way to
his home town to give thanks to his ancestors.
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