“The Rotten Orange”

My name is Shia Tshyu, when I woke up this morning, I found an orange is getting bad, the back side of it is covered by mold. I remember it was a orange being lively orange color, but now as it breathes as I am breathing in this tinny room. Time passes, and it dies. I carefully hold it up and trying to throw it in the food trash can, oh yeah, by the way, it is extremely strict that trash disposal must be done correctly in Seoul. Every kind of waste has its can, bag, and sticky tag. Right, right, even garbages have each of their places to go afterwards, I can hardly find my belongs in this city full of cars and roads. While I was transferring the orange, the dust of it’s suddenly goes into the air. This is the first I witness a life gets rotten, being digested by fungus and microorganism. It soothes me actually, because at least I am not the only living being in this space. After taking care of the orange I then saw the banana peel on an another table. I sighed, for time that abandoned me for long. I open the window, bright sun gets reflected by a glassy building opposite, projecting the lights into my room. I smiled, and getting ready to leave the house…




I am writing stories for Shia Tshyu, who moved to Seoul...

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