Kang likes to call himself an artist. His works, much to his quiet triumph, are always visible by the public, that is if one noticed them. The way red digital buttons light up in pre-determined clusters and swipe in a well timed crawl across bus displays. The way numbers flash themselves with a bell on two-digit wide screens and drink orders are exchanged over counters. He was sure his art made an impact in the society, certain because without his coded signs the society will find itself in great inconvenience: people will have no idea where they are going or when it was their turn to collect coffee and humans fear the unknown.
Kang has his doubts in the case when his works were not removed, whether people would pay them any heed. He had considered planting spelling mistakes, for example there would be No A’s August, all in the name of artistic expression of course. He decides against it on the multiple occasions the impulse arises, as much as he would like to succumb just to spite his Secondary school English teacher. Mrs Ferdiway would catch those mistakes and, infuriated, demand to know who was responsible for the displays, only to come face to face with Kang as it was all part of the plan. Instead, he settles for amusing himself by coming up with variations of “Yes Mrs Ferdiway it is I who was once taught by you and still to this day shall embarrass you”
A pity though. Each time an ingenious idea like Double S September came to him, he stowed it away in the dusty childhood shoebox because he knew he should have done that much earlier to arouse the attention of Mrs Ferdiway. There wasn’t really a lot of point in doing it when the person he loved has long passed from a freak accident of a collapsed signboard.
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