Thousands of rubber duck expected to land on the coast of New England

Thousands of rubber duck expected to land on the coast of New England.The ducks fell overboard from a container ship from China to Seattle during a storm in 1992. They floated along the Alaskan coast, reaching the Bering Strait in 1995. Once they were trapped by slow moving ice and they broke through it in three years. According to oceanographers, those ducks have traveled for thirty-two thousands miles.

During their long voyage through three oceans, scientists have tracked their progress - and say it has taught them valuable lessons about surface currents.
They finally landed the coast of New England in 2003.

Little Black was a homeless dog.He lived around my neighborhood. He came to our house during mealtime for food. We got used to him as a family member. Later, he started to leave home in the early morning and back at late night. Then he was gone a week. Once he left and got hurt back after a month. I started to worry about him, and then one day, he disappeared.

I should set up a mini camera on his neck to follow his adventure. What kind of sensory in his eyes? What is the call of the wild to attract him leaving us? Was it a solitary journey or free happiness?

homework for Fractured Narratives

#1
Can I open these boxes? I asked
Are you sure you want to open it?
It’s dark and empty inside. The black one answered
If you touch me, I would fly away.
Please stay away from me and just watch my beautiful dressing. The feather and colorful one said
I feel so tired with this heavy color, even though this little shining points on my body the brown with golden sparkle said
The white one kept silent. She watched me as I looked at her.
The silence made me feel safe and relax.
I smiled at her.

#2

樂 Joy + 園 Garden= 樂 園 Paradise

I am a word. She is also a word.
After meeting each other, we compose a different word called wedding.
There are different sentences in the world, and every sentence has different function.
We learn in “school” sentence, make money in “work” sentence….
One page is a day.
Every morning, we wake up from the first sentence of a new page, and head to bed in the last sentence of the page.
Pages after pages, we find out there is a bigger section than sentences, called paragraph.

#3

I’m sitting on a chair in a long hall
Watching people coming and leaving
Some left words and rushed to their way
Some sat for a while
I got closer to them slowly / TOO CLOSE / they walked away
I sat there, watching the light in the other side of hall
When it turns dark, I listen the music in my heart
I heard a voice, reading my words
Those words came from darkness,
I see the smile on their faces
They are dancing in the music
Enjoy the different view in the silent world.

it was the first time he knew “word”

When he was thirty-six years old, it was the first time he knew “word”
(His third birthday, his first one was twelve years old.)
Mother opened the case, He felt sun shine.
Mom gave him a pen as a birthday present.
He had no idea how to use it.
“ You must use it with word. Word is a kind of speaking.
We apply different meaning to words, such as what we see or how we feel.”
“Is it a kind of toy?”
“Almost the same, try it.”
She held his hand to write his name: S-C- H-U-B-E-R-T.
The wall soon filled with his own words .
“Mom, I need another empty suitcase”.
She gave him pieces of paper.
He wrote down everything he saw, suitcase, floor, wall, room, mother, mother’s clothes, her eyes, her lips, her kissing, the sunshine, the window, and the wind.
He started to face the mirror to write about himself, his eyes, his noise, his hand, and his pen…. when he finished all he can write, he began to take his words apart.
He used the part of words to rebuild an empty suitcase and broke the words to rebuild a wood factory, a forest, a tree, a seed, and a soil…
He deconstructed everything he wrote.
He deconstructed the drafts, which are as high as ceiling.
He reduced the height of them, little by little, to a piece of blank paper.
How amazing! After twenty years, I wrote a blank page.
Now, he wants to write a story about how people review an unwritten book and how it disappears

He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase

He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase.
He doesn’t know he has father.
Or I should say, he doesn’t know what the meaning of father is.
Sometimes mother told him, I plucked a “ father” on road.
He pictured the “father” a thing growing up on the road, staying there and keeping silence.
“Mother, what is pluck?” He asked, “Pluck is to take a small part from a whole, such as plucking a flower from a plant” mother answered, “What is flower? What is plant?”
“ I forget you’ve never seen a plant or a flower. For example, if I were a plant and you would be a flower. You were part of me before you were born.

“ I got it. What kind of finger plucks me off you?

Mother only use one kind of perfume, so he believes there is one kind of smell of perfume. He can’t imagine other kind of smell. When he smells himself, he wonders he has two bodies or two souls.

He spends his life in his mother’s suitcase.
Suitcase contains all of his understanding of the world.
Even bigger, like his mother’s bedroom (his mother never walks out the room).
Mother only spends few seconds to walk from this side to other side of the world.
The world is a small place, and has two things—him and his mother, a plant and a flower.
If there are other things, they must be a thing with four eyes and eight legs.

Every time the suitcase opens, he sees mother’s smile.
He doesn’t know there is a word called “sad “in the world.