By Linda Sue Park
Tree-ear, an orphan, lives below a bridge in Ch’ulp’o, a potters’ village famed for gentle celadon ware. He has develop into enthusiastic about the potter’s craft; he wishes not anything greater than to observe grasp potter Min at paintings, and he goals of constructing a pot of his personal sometime. while Min takes Tree-ear on as his helper, Tree-ear is elated–until he reveals hindrances in his course: the backbreaking exertions of digging and hauling clay, Min’s irascible mood, and his personal lack of understanding. yet Tree-ear is set to turn out himself–even if it skill taking an extended, solitary trip strolling to give Min’s paintings within the desire of a royal fee . . . whether it capacity arriving on the royal court docket with not anything to teach yet a unmarried celadon shard.
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Extra info for A Single Shard
It's Tommy. What the fuck does the cunt want at this time? – Haud oan Tommy. Jist comin. Ah shoot intae ma knob for the second consecutive day. As the needle goes in, it looks like a horrible experiment being conducted on an ugly sea–snake. The gig is getting sicker by the minute. The rush wastes nae time in racin tae ma box. Ah git a magic high, then think ah'm gaunnae puke. Ah under–estimated how pure this shite wis, and took a wee bit too much in that shot. Ah take a deep breath and get it thegither.
So five weeks on, I've got a pair of bollocks like watermelons. There's probably a fair bit of spunk alongside that pish, shite and puke. – You were is some state last night David Mitchell, she said accusingly. Was she genuinely upset or playing at being upset? Difficult to tell. Then: What happened to the covers? Genuinely upset. – IEh, a wee accident Gail. – Well, never mind that. Come downstairs. We're just about to have breakfast. She left, and I wearily got dressed and tentatively crept down the stairs, wishing I was invisible.
Ah really liked Julie, maybe that's why. She wis a really good punter. She hud a bairn whin she wis HIV, but the bairn wis all–clear, thank fuck. The hoespital sent Julie hame in an ambulance wi the bairn, wi two guys dressed in sortay radioactive–proof suits – helmets, the lot. This wis back in 1985. It had the predictable effect. The neighbours saw this, freaked, and bumt her oot the hoose. Once ye git tagged HIV, that's you fucked. Especially a lassie oan her puff. Harassment followed harassment.
A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park