On the street corner that winter day, Ju Fufu waved the old pot lid in his hand, knocking on the pot body, making a ding-dong popcorn sound. The sound was crisp, with a little funny and helpless. This world seems to always like to remind you in an absurd way that life is not a heroic epic, but a series of trivialities and tortures.
The sound of Ju Fufu’s popcorn pot lid is like a silent play at the bottom of society. There are no spotlights, no applause, only cold wind and the indifference of passers-by. The rhythm of the pot lid is sometimes fast and sometimes slow, as if it is like her fluttering heartbeat, wanting to struggle but feeling powerless. Her life is like popcorn in the pot, tormented by the flames, popping and extinguishing, and it seems that she will never find the peace of that moment.
This sound is a symbol of survival. It is not a simple performance, but more like a silent protest of Ju Fufu to the world: I am here, I am alive, don’t forget me. She knocks the pot lid not with skill but with rhythm, and the rhythm hides her complex emotions about life – bitterness, struggle, and occasionally a little self-mockery.
People passing by have no time to pay attention to these sounds. They are busy with their lives, but they don’t know that they are also supporting roles in this absurd drama. Everyone wears a mask to act, pretending to be happy or indifferent, but their hearts may be more chaotic than Ju Fufu. The society ignores the bottom because everyone is busy ignoring their own anxiety and pain.
Ju Fufu’s life is not romantic. She is not a victim or a hero. She is just an ordinary person, a little person forgotten by the times, trying her best to knock out a little sense of her existence with the pot lid. The knocking sound of the pot lid seems to ask: Who are we? What are we living for? Why is life so harsh?
The absurdity of this world lies not in the things themselves, but in our numbness to them. The sound of Ju Fufu knocking the pot lid is like a mirror, reflecting the anxiety and struggle in each of our hearts. Most of us are actually popcorn that is constantly burnt by the flames of life, but the knocking sound of the pot lid is drowned out by our busyness and indifference.
The popping sound in the popcorn pot and the clinking sound of the pot lid constitute the symphony of life. It has no gorgeous melody, no vigorous climax, but it truly shows the absurdity and helplessness of life. Ju Fufu’s knocking is not just a performance, but more like her ridicule and resistance to fate.
This sound has a strange magic that makes people stop and think about it. Think about those people who have nowhere to speak, and think about what the essence of life is. Maybe life is a series of trivial knocking sounds, occasionally bursting out a little unexpected spark, but in the end it has to return to calm and silence.
The knocking sound of Ju Fufu’s pot lid is particularly harsh in the winter night of this city. It pierces the silence and the thick layer of numbness in people’s hearts. She is telling you in the simplest way: no matter how absurd life is, you must not forget to knock out your own rhythm and your own faint light.
The sound of the pot lid is not only the sound of popcorn, but also a profound insight and reflection on life. It tells us that absurdity is not all of life, and we must find our own meaning in absurdity. Ju Fufu knocked out an imperfect but true hymn of life with the pot lid, which makes people sigh and feel distressed.
Life is so absurd and ridiculous. Each of us is a popcorn in the pot, bursting and collapsing in the flames. Although Ju Fufu knocking on the pot lid is insignificant, it reveals the truth of life in silence. We might as well stop, listen to this sound, look at this world, and perhaps find a different way to live.