What the hell?

The raw air hit him like cold water. Mark drew the collars of his jacket up and stiffened against the breeze. The little house structures of China Town swayed dangerously in the wind, tawdry trinkets adorning them. Further down the road, a cluster of people weaved in and out of the central market - shouts ensuing every stall. Every so often, Mark would feel the fabrics of his garments shift by people colliding into him. The density of this area was so high it was almost like an ant hill, figures milling around lazily. The reddened sky was already beginning to take the form of evening; cirrus clouds streaked the sky and the egg-yolk sun glared over the tops of the building.

Mark lifted his camera to his eye and began to shoot. The colours and people were garish - but he liked their raw callousness. The buildings were lacking in paint and plaster, little shards of glass lay at his feet. He swerved his camera round and it came to rest on a stall selling counterfeit watches. He observed the man for a few minutes more, fascinated by his marketing techniques.

"Excuse me - how much is this?" A slim, sun-bedding woman. Her mouth hung open wide, round like a puckered O. In the swelteringly hot weather she had put on a skimpy vest and skirt. Mark imagined folds of saddlebags underneath her clothes.

"Trenty dollahs." The aged Asian man spoke. His accent was heavy, but he spoke in clipped tones. His eyes snatched the woman's heavy handbag, the way she looked at the watch.

"Twenty dollars?" The woman repeated. There was a hint of disbelief in her voice, but Mark knew that she would not argue. After all, she was a blatant tourist. He imagined her from Texas. She would be a housewife - wealthy, not doubt. In the afternoons she would invite over her friends to bitch about her husband.

"Trenty." The Asian man said firmly. Mark zoomed in on his face. It was tight with closure; he was not going to change his mind. The woman seemed to calculate something in her head, her mouth hung even more obscenely open. Her hand reached for her wallet.

"Twenty." She pulled out two crisp notes, twenty dollars. The man took it and offered her the watch. The woman slipped it on her bony wrist and flashed him a smile. He smiled in return, but only Mark saw his laughing shake of the head after she had left the stall.

"Excuse me." An exasperated voice. A girl bumped up behind him. Mark turned around sharply, causing the girl to drop the stack of boxes she was hauling around.

"Oh god, I'm so" -Mark scrabbled around the floor, picking up items which had fell out of the boxes- "so, sorry."

"Yeah, I said 'excuse me' like a million times." The girl muttered under her breath, roughly shoving the watches and jewellery into the battered boxes. Around them, the crowd moved in, almost crushing the two with their claustrophobic presence.

"Look, I'm sorry." Mark said again, noticing the bitter tone in the girl's voice. "It was an accident."

"People like you don't accidentally ignore people like me." She snatched up the boxes, once again piling them on top of each other precariously.

"Hey, watch the accusation." Mark said angrily, holding up his hands. Then his expression cleared. "People like me?"

"You know, just forget it." The girl spoke shortly, obviously pissed off. The man Mark had been filming earlier hobbled up to her, almost knocking over the boxes once more. A stream of raucous, angry Chinese poured out from his mouth, and he boxed her on the side of her head. The girl did not respond, and the old man simply returned to his place at the watch stall.

"Chloe! Come on, you lazy bitch." It was a younger man, face like an agitated pug. He stood by the old man at the stall.

"No, tell me." Mark protested. "People like me?"

"Do I have to spell it out on fucking paper?" The girl screamed, half angrily, half sobbing. "Or are you blind to what just happened?" Mark noticed her eyes were round and brimming with tears. Her dark hair covered her face, and she started to walk the other way, back to the stall.

"Hey, you vant necklace? For your girlfwiend?" An old lady approached Mark, holding a glittering chain. What girlfriend, thought Mark half amusedly. But he simply shrugged her off without a word and pushed his way out of the crowds.

Once he escaped the heady forest of China Town he knocked his head against the wall. How many more people was he going to piss off in his lifetime?