The Grown Shells

Now we arrive at Chinatown. The small shells I once saw in Petco have grown up—they’vebecome oysters resting on a bed of crushed ice. Under the white light of the market, their rough shells glisten like stones from another world. Behind the counter, workers in white coats move swiftly, opening one shell after another. The sound of the knife cutting through the shell is sharp but rhythmic, like a ritual of daily life.I suddenly realized that the life cycle of these creatures is both natural and constructed. From the aquarium to the market, from being admired to being eaten, every step is arranged by human hands.