The modest revolution of hanging laundry

I find myself looking for laundry.
In daily life, and while traveling—.

The eaves of a stranger's house. Colorful laundry.
Someone's "life" is hung out carelessly.
It's bad taste, I know, but I can't help but aim my camera at it.

Someone eats there, washes clothes there, and will wear them again tomorrow.
It's right there, yet somehow far away, and yet nostalgic.
The rhythm of someone's daily life.

To digress a little, I started living in Beijing for my husband's job, and before I knew it, 13 years had passed. I cook meals in this city, and of course,I hang out the laundry.

Every once in a while, someone asks, "Are you still in Beijing?"
As if it were strange to have been there so long.
With a tone that implies, "Surely that's enough by now."

What if this were Milan? Paris? London?
If it were somewhere other than here, maybe I would have been told,
"That's cool," "You're a global citizen," "I'm envious"
—or something like that.

But Beijing.
It might be a bit far from being "stylish," but it's the place where my 13 years are packed.
Honestly, I came along reluctantly at first. But before I knew it, the seasons had turned—and one way or another, I have lived here with love. Looking back at the photos I've taken, I think they are all colorful and full of character.

I have encountered the lives of many people here, and the people I meet are generally quite lovely. And today, too, I am hanging out my laundry under this sky. (Since I live in a high-rise in the city center, I can't hang it outside like the locals do.)

Whether it's a trendy country or anywhere else,
people's daily tasks don't change much.
It might be the Tokyo Tower standing there,
or the Eiffel Tower, or Tiananmen.
But laundry is hung out in pretty much the same way.
Quietly proving that someone is living there.

Sometimes a bra.
Shoes of various sizes.
And—fish or meat. A whole pig.

While the way things are hung or the content might show a 'national character,' the things being hung are mostly the same. I don't really feel much 'nationality' in it.
I think what attracts me is surely that silent universality.

Like a quiet revolution, saying 'I'm here, so what?',
hung out with a smug look.

Next time I find laundry somewhere in the world—
I'll probably snap a photo again.
It's in bad taste, but I can't stop.

Of some nameless person,
—the modestrevolution of hanging things out to dry,
I just can't help but look at it.