Only when the motion of the train stopped did I awake with a clammy forehead.
I struggled to sleep again; the old man below me sucked and slurped his noodles.
Even after I presumed him to have finished, he sucked at his teeth.
The train started again. I put my bean pillow over my camera-bag and slept, content to be moving capitalwards once more.
We were not due in Tianjin until at least 7am, but by four there were already some ridiculously early risers about.
One of the five seamen sat at the window seat annoyingly cracking sunflower seeds.
By five he was joined by his mates. They slurped tea, created a smog, and conversed in an enthusiastic voice.
At five-thirty the carriage-attendant collected the sheets and pillow-cases.
He wanted to get off the train and go home to bed as soon as we arrived, and didn't care about our lack of sleep.
I looked out of the window, but it wasn't even light yet.
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Turn The Page: Arrival in Tianjin.