At the top of the scene, upon a dark green cotton cloth, rests a plaster nose— a replica of David’s sculpture—marking the beginning of the story. From there, it seems to drift downward, from distant heights to nearer depths, from far to near.

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I set my painting box aside and raise the wooden panel, as if seeking to demonstrate something on this once-white canvas. 

 

Gentle light filters through the window, caressing the filler flowers and dianthus. Naturally, the gold pendants and copper coins intertwine with pig bones. In the nourishing Hong Kong-style soup, I scoop out the pig bones, clean it, and place it in the sunlight. Turning back, I see the ‘nose’ – it’s scenting the fragrant ‘flower or the copper of ‘money. Yet perhaps, life’s true whispers are woven more deeply into the meaning of money itself.