The Refrigerator 🧊
In my first London residence—a student apartment—eight individuals shared two refrigerators. No explicit agreements dictated shelf assignments; thus, my items migrated among the three tiers, continually rearranged to fit available spaces.
The communal refrigerator in the Shijian dormitory was a brief nightmare, a hellscape demanding cleansing every Friday. Subsequently, in a rented abode, the refrigerator—a compact model—was purchased by my roommate, Zhongzhong. The limited freezer space accommodated merely one tub of ice cream per person among the three of us. Only post-cleaning could it house a larger container. Later, when Abee's boyfriend joined our household, the refrigerator became perpetually crowded. During periods of minimal cooking, many items were consigned to disposal upon entry, and occasional foul odors emanated from this diminutive appliance.
At my family home, the refrigerator is the domain of my mother and father. My territory consists of popsicles in the freezer, occasional chilled beverages, soy sauce on the top shelf, and chocolate. The appliance's organizational logic eludes me; when instructed by my mother to defrost meat, I require telephonic guidance to navigate its contents. The intricate freezer arrangement remains inscrutable; I perceive only my popsicles nestled within its crevices.
In my second London dwelling, I shared a refrigerator with another roommate, an Argentine. We divided the appliance into her space and mine. Culturally, our respective territories were unmistakable: my shelves bore canned milk tea, plum wine, Korean kimchi, braised pork ribs, Japanese curry, and rice; hers held lettuce, beer, cheese, milk, and an assortment of meats. Our sole commonality in the realm of food was perhaps the eggs, which resided outside the refrigerator. Here, sustenance was swiftly consumed; daily cooking dictated the appliance's industriousness. Provisions came and went, increased and diminished, maintaining a frigid equilibrium within shared spaces.
One day, I shall possess a grand refrigerator. Filled exclusively with my cherished edibles. No compromises. No missing yogurt cups. Just mine.
《我想要一台自己的冰箱》
在倫敦的第一個住所是學生公寓，八個人共用兩台冰箱，我們沒有說好誰用哪一層，因此我的東西在這三層隨意增加減少，在放得下的空間裡重新排列組合。
住在實踐宿舍的公共冰箱是一場短暫的噩夢，每個週五需要被清理的地獄。後來的租屋處的冰箱是當時的室友鐘忠買的，尺寸是一個小型冰箱，冷藏室只夠我們三人一人放一桶冰淇淋，只有在冰箱被清理過後的時候能夠容得下大號的冰淇淋。後來欸比的男友加入了這個租屋處，冰箱裡總是很擁擠，在不太開伙的日子裡，很多東西放進去的時候就註定要被丟棄，偶爾會有腐爛的味道，來自於這個迷你的小冰箱。
家裡的冰箱是媽媽和爸爸的空間，我的空間是冷藏室的冰棒跟偶爾冰著的飲料，還有第一層的醬油和巧克力。我永遠無法理解這個冰箱的邏輯，在媽媽要我先把肉拿出來退冰的時候，我需要通著電話才能在這個冰箱裡找到方向，我不知道冰箱裡的排列、不知道他的組成，我對複雜的冷藏室視若無睹，只看得到我的冰棒放在縫隙裡。
在倫敦的第二個租屋處，我和另一個室友共用冰箱，將冰箱一分為二成她的我的空間，室友是阿根廷人，從文化上來說我們的空間一目了然，我有罐裝的奶茶、梅酒，韓式泡菜、燉排骨、日本咖喱還有米飯，而她有生菜、啤酒起司、牛奶，和一堆肉類，在這個食物的領域我們唯一的共同點可能是沒放在冰箱裡的雞蛋。在這裏的食物消耗極快，每天都煮飯注定了這個冰箱的勤快，食物來來去去，增增減減，在一些公共空間我們維持著冰冷的平衡。
我真的很想要一個自己的大冰箱，在裡面塞滿所有我喜歡的食物，只屬於我的，聽從我的排列，不用因為擔心空間不夠而節制，裡面可以有一大桶冰淇淋，只屬於我的、無需分享的冰箱。
WRITTEN IN LONDON WITH MY 25y
Art Director / Design： Ruopu Li
Illustrator： Abee Lin
Year： 2025
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