In a small town congested with people that it couldn't fit, little knots of dirty children congregate on the narrow, unpaved streets. They sit still in battered schoolyards and eroded mud houses, lungs frantically inflating against frail ribcages, desperate to purge the besmirching grime from their bodies' systems. Acerbic chemicals and caustic stenches hang, sultry and heavy, in the dust-saturated air; this is the air that the children breathe. This is the air that corrode their gummy lungs and reduce their once-strong bones into frail needles. This is the air of China, and this is the air by which 1.4 billion people wake up every day suffocated.