Are you the 20’s who smells of a cotton candy or the one who digs coals with bare hands?
20’s. When I look at them (including myself), they are either full of ambitions, misery, or stocked with “positivity”. I often wonder how could they be so cheerful? I keep wondering. As if an amusement park is producing cotton candies inside their chest, they smell like bubble gums and unchewed candy pieces. While dusty, oily, coal-covered mining is starving its factory workers inside me. I smell of dirt, mud, and sweat.
Yes! I am that 20 years old who smells like old pages of a book who looks at the history as if they are my lost lovers.
20’s. Where are you marching to? The hell with it! Let me produce coals. Along the train track, let me produce dusty coals one after one. Let me bath in them. Coals that shine like the sun, tough like the bone of a body, palpable like the sweat of a factory worker who fought for their rights. Let me march! Alongside with them. To the deepest. I shall dig! The minerals of life. With my fingers, with my bare hands. While the amusement park runs out of its cotton candies I shall tell the story of the sweat and the fire that kept life real and alive.
20’s. What are you marching for?