To our left we catch glimpses of a deep-water harbour - criss-crossed daily by ancient ferries and at night by smugglers in tiny boats with fast outboard motors. We are on our way to a racetrack squeezed between the skyscrapers. After each race the losers throw their betting slips away in disgust. Under the floodlights they look like confetti snowing down from the stands.
Night is falling and a hot wind blows through the open windows of the crowded tram. As it weaves through the canyons of skyscrapers we see forests of neon signs advertising restaurants, nightclubs, cameras and computers. To our right there is a green peak, garlanded with the lights of high-rise apartments that command some of the world's highest rents.
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