Chocolate bars do not die an instantaneous death. They die a kind of slow, poetic death where after a part or a whole of their bodies fall off, they are left to burn in the sun, their flesh turning from solid to liquid.
When flesh hits concrete, molecules react. Melanin is produced, energy is diffused, atoms collide and a thousand Big Bangs explode. Chocolate bars are not usually murdered, they are simply devoured.
No one murders a chocolate bar by pre-meditation or conscious choice. It is usually by the reckless manhandling of unattentive owners, irresponsible and ungrateful for what was once coveted but now repulsed for it has been soiled.
They are left by the pavement all day, without so much as a casual glance by passersby. They are forsaken by the corner, like a pre-loved item once paid for but now rejected for it has fallen off sloppy fingers or careless grips.
Along Stanley Street, by the corner of the pavement, at lunch time when the crowd is thickest, an act of heinous murder is committed in broad daylight. But nobody stops to look, except this one man who notices.
He stoops down, takes out his camera phone, observes and studies it like a specimen. Does he find beauty in death? In impermanence? Perhaps it is the ungratefulness of human nature that bewilders him.
Jirim adalah sebarang benda yang mempunyai jisim dan memenuhi ruang. Jirim terdiri daripada zarah yang halus dan diskret. Jirim dibahagi kepada dua iaitu unsur dan sebatian. Jirim berubah bentuk bila suhu bertambah.
Wan Phing Lim 