Last night for a split second, I was thinking about those chopsticks I used to use when living in my grandma's Taipei apartment in my late teens and early twenties. I wonder where they are now. Maybe the tenants now living there are still using them, which would be a great news to me. I hate the idea that they were discarded at some point because of some ridiculously stupid reasons.
I then felt humbled by the thought that I used to be a self-obsessed, ignorant and superficial human being for as long as those chopsticks had been in my life. I then felt humbled by the sensation under the soles of my slippers of the ground, which accepts whatever I lay on it, without making a statement for itself. I wish I could know what it feels about me in reverse.