The dark brown, soft bits seem to be very vulnerable. It is the rotten part of a peach. Any peach in the street thrown away, not wanted, because it’s rotten and people might get sick from eating it.
However, an old pair of hands were washing it, quickly, carelessly, because the old lady who is washing it knows no matter how much she washes it, it is still a rotten peach. Washing it is just a form, probably it’s just a habit, since when she was rich, when she could afford fresh peaches, she washed them anyway.
On the left of the big bowl, there is a pile of peaches, all of them are rotten, and there are some rotten vegetables too, those thrown somewhere by the vegetable sellers, because they know people won’t buy them anyway.
And you see the lady, tired, looks a bit helpless and hopeless. There are many flies around her. And nothing around her is clean. You see behind her, there is some clothes hanging in the small courtyard, of men and women.
And then, a 50 something year old man putting his arm in the air, as if he is accusing something, someone. He looked helpless and angry.
This is in the old petitioners’ village, by the high-road, in the construction site, around this old house, there are migrant workers and half-built shiny Beijing South Train Station.
Written by Zhao Xue
Great gratitude for Kevin U. De Randamie, Judith Bovenberg, Maartje Nevejan and everyone from PAL Labs who inspired me.
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