Smoglife: The Various Horrors of Indoor Play

I'm sure setting up a classroom will be no hassle at all.

The prison.

Smoglife is a series of vignettes relating to various things that happen when the air in China gets mad murky.

The smog in Suzhou had settled like an unruly houseguest, and was eating all of the good chips and cookies and never making the bed. The air began to taste sulphurous and metallic, always with the tinge of carcinogen and burning computer parts. People would squint to make out objects in the middle distance and try to not think about the weeks and years slowly being peeled off the end of their lives with a China-shaped paring knife.

One of the side-effects of this acidic haze was the necessity for indoor play. Much as throwing children directly into a volcano or a sewage pipe would be seen as inadvisable to their health, it was deemed inappropriate to allow our various charges to careen about in the toxic slurry that we were all conspiring to call air. Their tiny, fragile lungs being susceptible as they are to incredibly hazardous levels of choking coal smoke and industrial chemicals, it was thought that for their safety, the children should stay inside on a smoggy day.

At first all was well. A day of indoor play is an excuse to unearth old toys, different parts of the classroom and the school left unexplored.  It is reason to connect with new friends, with old chums, with new games and with creativity. Necessity is the mother of invention; boundary is the foundation of innovation.

But in time, the confines proved too constricting. In time, indoor play drove the children to extremes.

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