Tara Min Wai - Man with a mechanical skin

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Introduction (A)

The room fell silent as I listened to the footsteps coming up the stairs. There were three people sitting quietly in the room. As the footsteps drew closer, one of the people sitting next to me glanced at their employer sitting across from me and sighed softly.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck..fuck"

The two of them mentally tried to stop the footsteps from continuing. However.....it didn't happen in reality. Therefore....

"Fat"

The last step of the stairs led to the entrance of the room. In the shadow of the door, which had not yet opened, a vague figure was seen. The figure hesitated for a moment, then adjusted its posture to enter the room. He took a step..

"Don't come in."

The cold, harsh voice of prohibition came from the large figure across the table. The large figure repeated it in a harsh tone to the two men sitting motionless in front of him.

"Read to him what's written on the paper."

Then, looking intently at the door...

"That's my official statement that will be in the newspapers."

As he finished speaking, someone sitting at the table read a piece of paper. His voice was articulate but dry.

Completely tolerant of inquiries.

My son Linset ( S-/-OKA 082 ...)

I gave up on him as a son.

                                                                                Success (WKA - 027..)

At the end of the reading, the entire environment fell silent. There was no response from the door. After a while, U Maeng succeeded. The voice appeared again.

"Now, on the table within your reach, I have placed your book that you brought to my room, and a check that I have signed. You can write the amount of money you want on the check and withdraw it. Also, leave the keys to the house that you have in your hand on the table. Then you can continue your journey, that's all."

Even his breathing seemed to have a wheezing sound. At that moment, a hand reached out from the shadows of the doorway onto the table.

A set of keys was placed on the table, gently and quietly, without making a sound.

Then he slowly pushed the check back into the hands of the people in the room. He didn't take it. He picked up a copy of the book of the world-famous artist Vincent Van Gogh, written in English, from the table.

Then the hand returned to the door and disappeared.

"Snap...snap...snap...snap"

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs steadily. The footsteps gradually became more distant and finally disappeared completely.

Where will those feet continue to walk?

When they looked out the window of their room at the sky, they saw a white cloud floating by.

Introduction (8)

I will cross this night.

In the dream

If you want to wait for the monsters, let them wait...

(Continued)

( 1 )

When I first looked, I saw only ordinary trees lined up on either side of the road, each holding a burning flower in its arms.

I slowly shook my head and looked back a second time before I could see that they were actually lighted poles. I sighed and put the glass of wine I had been holding back down on the table without drinking it.

In my mind's eye, the road is winding along. A road that never ends. As I challenge myself and smile, the blood in my body begins to boil. I am not afraid. No road is as long as the road in my heart.

The path will pass through many places. The people walking will stop at their respective places and climb the roofs, dreaming of this night. I am homeless. I will move on these legs until the end of the path.

We will travel looking at the stars like a dream-driven vehicle on the back of our pebbles.

Whatever happens, as Vincent van Gogh said, it is not a tree, but it will remain green, not a flower, but it will bloom.

Inside the shop, the sound of clinking bottles and glasses and the sound of conversation were all around. The clock ticked lazily and the kyats were ringing, and the smell was even more intense. I wanted to go and check my sunrise time on the calendar on the wall. But...

I pushed my bottle in front of the person drinking at the same table as me.

“Brother, clean these up.” “What?” | He was surprised. He didn’t know me. I hadn’t even drunk a drop of my own bottle. I stood up from my seat and told him as if nothing was strange.

"I don't want to drink anymore"

"Oh.. yeah"

He seemed to be in pain. When my waiter came to take my money, he said in a loud voice.

"Leave it alone, my brother won't drink it either, I'll clean it up myself."

I shook my head and said, "Okay." As I paid and left the store, the cold wind hit my chest.

It was almost midnight. The streets were sparsely populated and the flickering lights were not poetic. Ah... In my diary, I was the hero again. I was walking with a suitcase in my jacket pocket, my hands in my pockets.

I stood under a lamppost. A hawk in the grass beside the road was chirping. I looked up at the sky. I could see the stars, but the stars couldn't see me. My mind was spinning, and my hair was wet with mist. Where was I going? My mind was wandering.

I stood there for a long time in the quiet night, hearing the sound of the falling snow in my ears. And the long grass was still swaying in the night wind.

"Little brother"

A rickshaw pulled up in front of me and the rickshaw driver called out to me. He also asked the rickshaw driver to stop. After a quick glance, I recognized him. It was the same man who had sat at the same table as me at the bar.

He called me again.

"Little brother"

"Huh?"

"Where are you going, what are you doing here?"

"Ah... I'm just tired of walking."

"Come on, get in the rickshaw, and follow me wherever you're going, okay, little brother?"

"No, never mind, I'll just keep walking."

He smiled at me.

"There's no time for walking, little brother."

I nodded and shook my head.

"Just walk, if you have the path and the legs, you're done, you don't need time."

His smile became brighter. He laughed softly, "Haha" in a gentle tone...

"Come on, little brother, get in the rickshaw, and come to my house. I've been watching you since I was in the shop."

I frowned. What did I notice? But I didn't ask. I could feel the sincerity in his face. With that, I got into the rickshaw.

As I rode along on the rickshaw, I was mentally drawing a painting called “Light of the Night.” I had forgotten everything else.

( 2 )

He was looking at me curiously, as if he were something special. I pretended not to know and remained silent. After a long while, I let out a long sigh and returned my drawing paper from his hand. I, too, put it back among my books as if it were nothing special.

"The name of the picture is Virgin."

"Yes"

He nodded and said, "Good."

"Is this girl really out there?"

I nodded hesitantly.

"Yes"

"Oh"

He looked at me as if he understood me. He didn't ask any more questions, he just grabbed an old card and started playing cards.

This morning, he and I were in his little wooden house. The house was filthy and filthy. Cigarette butts were scattered all over the place. Books were strewn about, spiders were playing with the sky on the ceiling, and the floor was covered in ash.

"Phan...phone"

He threw a card face down in front of him and then in front of me, and then...

"I guess I'm being reasonable about your brother." "Yes." "Tell me, how do you see your brother?"

He listened to me as I played with the paper in my hand, making various shapes. I spoke in a low voice.

"I think my older brother will be a writer."

He smiled contentedly.

"Who will it be?"

Without answering, he pointed to the bottom of a book. There was the name “Ko Maw” written there. His smile became even more expressive.

"Yes, my brother is the writer Ko Maw."

As he spoke, he quickly flipped the face-down card in front of him. King.

"I'll tell you as I guessed, brother."

"Yes"

"You are a young man who came from an upper-class family. I think you were born into a society that valued business and embraced art."

I nodded my head slowly as I stared at the floor.

"Yes, of course."