Essay on I Was A Mime For Three Years

1066 Words Jul 27th, 2015 5 Pages
When I was fifteen I was a mime for three months. I lived in Taiwan, I was alone, I couldn’t speak more than a few sentences of Chinese, so I had to be a mime. A semipermanent game of charades was the only way to communicate with the people around me. Eventually, as the year progressed, I became fluent in Mandarin, so my mime skills were no longer necessary. However, I did realize that when one loses the ability to speak, they gain more of an understanding of the world around them. Living in a third world country opened my eyes, it was almost as if I had been blind to the world. I gained a sense of realization that Americans are incredibly privileged compared to their foreign counterparts.
Everyday for a year I passed a little old man on my way home from the subway station. He sat outside of a shack disguised as a boutique adjacent to the 7-11. He wore the same tattered sweater, yellowed with age, battered brown pants, and around his shoulders a red blanket. His eyes were like tunnels, flecked with wisdom and sorrow. He looked like the type of man who had seen the worst humanity had to offer. In front of him was a box of fruits, his only means of income. He offered an array of strawberries, pineapples, and mango, his fruit looked better than any fruit in a grocery store, yet people never seemed to buy from him. Possibly because they were hardened by seeing beggars in worse conditions, but most likely because of his outward appearance. I never bought fruit from the man, his…

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