We are taught to discard. A torn page. A chipped cup. A thread that has come loose. We call these things broken, finished, useless.
But a discarded thing is only a thing that has stopped being seen. It still carries the memory of what it was, and the possibility of what it could become.
HONG XI collects what others throw away, not to repair it, but to listen to it. A piece of charred paper remembers the fire. A broken ceramic remembers the fall. Together, these memories become something new.
Perhaps the things we throw away are not the things we no longer need. They are the things we no longer know how to see.
