I’m enraged. If I’m in the shoes of hyun-woo’s mother, boiling water and stabbing them wouldn’t be enough. I’ll chop him into bite pieces and give it to the pigs. Their skull will be grind till it turn into a powder—and I won’t use it as fertilizer, because beautiful plants don’t need a rotten fertilizer. Instead, I’ll mix their ashes with the cement to build the pigs’ home. In this way, there will be a moment in their life where they can boast about being useful. And in that pigs’ home, they will always smell their scent—dirt and rotten.
I’m enraged. If I’m in the shoes of hyun-woo’s mother, boiling water and stabbing them wouldn’t be enough. I’ll chop him into bite pieces and give it to the pigs. Their skull will be grind till it turn into a powder—and I won’t use it as fertilizer, because beautiful plants don’t need a rotten fertilizer. Instead, I’ll mix their ashes with the cement to build the pigs’ home. In this way, there will be a moment in their life where they can boast about being useful. And in that pigs’ home, they will always smell their scent—dirt and rotten.