The poetry and brief life of a Foxconn worker

Reading through the poems, one in particular stood out to me, ‘A screw Fell to the Ground.’ While it was done eight months before his suicide, the context seems to be relatable to how he may have been feeling—mostly the sound of “someone” plunging and nobody hearing. — 《一颗螺丝掉在地上》 "A Screw Fell to the Ground" 一颗螺丝掉在地上 A screw fell to the ground 在这个加班的夜晚 In this dark night of overtime 垂直降落，轻轻一响 Plunging vertically, lightly clinking 不会引起任何人的注意 It won’t attract anyone’s attention…

It's hard to remember sometimes that all the people in the world that live lives so much worse than ours still have their own hopes and dreams, their own aspirations and imaginations. This article made me quite sad, despite the great poetry.

We're all a part of this. I've been asking myself questions, at an increasing rate lately, like "where does all this material come from?", "who makes all this stuff?", "what's the effect of making this?', etc., and any hint of an answer leads to nowhere good quite quickly. That is especially true when you consider the human and other animal elements. Just looking into the trash makes you realize the insane amount of single-use material that is used for daily…