My father simply glued the entire wall to the tiles for the bathroom, once and for all, but not long after, the cancer emerged from the cracks of the tiles, and the fat and white silkworms, lightly wiped with his hand, turned into Chai powder. My father's hometown is in the south of Borneo, where the equator passes, and the sun is sweeping away all the dampness.
The water there costs money to buy bucket by bucket. Unaccustomed to the soil and water, my father was in the humid north, and on his skin, which was always light brown and never bleached because of sitting in an air-conditioned room, from time to time whatsapp list ringworms and wallflowers bloomed. My father always hated this rainy and foggy city. As soon as the summer vacation came, he led the whole family as a nomadic camel caravan to Malaya, where they roasted under the scorching sun of the equator, forcing out the gloomy, soft, and groaning wetness. /poetry. The equator is my father's nostalgia.
In the damp northern basin, he is always stagnant and swollen. His sons and daughters were born in a rainy city, their personalities are locked in, they are accustomed to cancer in the house, they are accustomed to tide clothes that never dry out, and they are accustomed to water infiltrating in various forms, flooding, small water dripping, spring Mild rain, showers in summer, water vapor in autumn, and cold in winter. Water swept away everything, lost its roots and drifted away, borders were uncertain, and identity was indefinable.