“A good journalist always asks the Who’s, What’s, Where’s, et cetera. It was the checklist recipe that formed the basic broth of any decent story. To this concoction Candace liked to sprinkle in her own spice: the What the Fuck’s. It was a natural question, given her beat: covering the comings and goings of the New Gangs, those happy syndicates, made up of and targeting the key 15-19 and 75-85 year-olds demographics, that did dealings almost entirely in Shanghainese Patois and trading in spirits, souls, body parts, auto parts, transistors, televisions, Teletubbies, and, of course, dreams. Candace’s two year stint chasing leads and squirreling facts was about eighteen months longer than the careers of most reporters who found themselves in this part of town, and about twelve months short of when she figured she would find her own dreams excavated from behind her blonde and blue locks and on sale on the back of some New Gangs van.”
Photo via William Yan.