Since making a Snake Plissken-style escape from Pudong, the Puxi landmark that has inexorably drawn our eye as we survey the okay-for-the price view from our garret hasn't been the Sauronesque spire of the Marriott, nor the guy who does his Ghost Dog workout on the roof opposite each morning, but rather an advert for pants. Or "briefs" to those of you who've escaped the yoke of Queen Elizabeth II. Calvin Klein briefs, to be precise.
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Djimon has left the (side of the) building
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