In the early morning of the 1980s, just after dawn, the family compound of the city foundry was already enveloped by a thin layer of soot. This familiar smell, mixed with the aroma of the early fried dough sticks, is a signal for this northern industrial town to wake up.
The long-distance bus station was bustling with people, making it even more chaotic and noisy than the morning in the family courtyard.
