In my frenzy reorganizing and neatening up of my room in Project packup, I found scraps of paper with valued thoughts and emotions. Here's one of them that brought tears to my eyes as I was writing. 眼前所看到的，真是心酸的一幕。 The green bin A wrinkled old woman, hunched over with age, wizened, small, frail, and greyed. Plunged her hand without hesitation into the green bin. Such bins, never explored the same way by the young and materialistic, who only dip their hands into pockets brimming with riches from doting parents and the latest technological devices that is never deemed existentially necessary to the old woman. The green bin, condemned by over-protective and pampering parents, found its place as a unhygenic mass littered with flies and cigarette butts and as a means of survival full of crushed cans that can be exchanged for some miserly sustenance. The old woman, accustomed to the art of living through the bin, lay the cans on the stoney floor. With a determined stamp, she crushed the embittered hoplessness and pushed forth with mere determination to get by. Her back is bent, but she steadily picks up the crushed can and packs it into her bag, unashamed. As the young watched in cold apathy and self-centred disgust at such lowly and non-impressive behaviour, their elevated status gained from ignorance and apathy pours forth in cold stares that rains harder than the drizzle and the chilly, wet sky. I stood aside the young, helplessly, heart aching for the old woman, thinking about seeing the green bin through her eyes.