Wet Market Corner

Every weekend, as I accompany my mother to the wet market, there’s a scene that never fails to tug at my heartstrings. Amid the bustle of bright stalls and lively chatter, there’s this quiet corner. A lone figure sits there, illuminated only by the soft glow of nearby lights.

Her stall doesn’t have the electricity or brightness others boast, and her product—organic soil—is far from the sought-after items in a wet market. Yet, she’s there every single time, waiting patiently. The rain doesn’t deter her, nor does the lack of customers.

There’s a profound strength in her quiet perseverance, a reminder that resilience often doesn’t shout. It simply endures.

I wonder what stories she holds, sitting there in her solitude. For now, all I can offer her is my silent respect, and this image—a small tribute to her unwavering spirit.