Beijing Lu, Kunming (Yunnan province, China). There’s four of them. Four in a row. Eye lids closed. A small chair in front of them, on the pavement. A self-painted banner behind them, full of Chinese characters describing the services they offer. And a price per item. Of course. Massage on the street. An old man seated on one of the chairs sets the example.
They call for attention to passers-by. “An Mó”. “An Mó”. The mandarin for “massage”. The words echo over the street. I pass by and look curiously as I walk along. Then all of a sudden, I hear “massage”, “massage”…Haha…I never knew blind man can tell the colour of your skin by the tone of your footsteps…
They call for attention to passers-by. “An Mó”. “An Mó”. The mandarin for “massage”. The words echo over the street. I pass by and look curiously as I walk along. Then all of a sudden, I hear “massage”, “massage”…Haha…I never knew blind man can tell the colour of your skin by the tone of your footsteps…
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