Chapter 4
The spring rain fell with no surprise on the Sunday morning. Like a horny woman’s drunken whisper, it rained just enough to beat a lychee forest with a tender rhythm. The lychee trees seemed to be dreaming sweetly as if it were still night.
Their thriving greenness was thickly dark, the only comfort I could find behind the dormitory. Although many leaves were covered by rubbish, the trees looked undisturbed. Although the edge of the forest was dotted by the layered colors of the rubbish, the whole forest seemed untroubled. Under the edge was an imperfect ditch glistening with black water. Along the ditch were piles of rotting garbage building small castles with barbarity. And these garbage castles were built by the civilized people creating an uncivilized history that was unnoticed.