Fiction: Group 4
New Tales of the Pearl River Delta
Island School, Lau, Bond - 14, Fiction: Group 4
jewel against a canvas of black. A small planet that, like 1700 others in the universe, is capable of
sustaining life. The earth is our home, a planet filled with various possibility, beauty and nature. But
having the right circumstances is not enough. Water is a requirement for life on earth, with over
70% of the surface covered in it. A complex network of blue is stretched out on the landscape of the earth,
each bestowing its life giving properties upon all that are near. Each river of the simple compound that
grants life to us all has its own history, its own noble features. And the Pearl River Delta is a part of this
system, a grand part of China’s geography. An area of 15,200 square miles large, the Pearl River Delta is the
land surrounding the Pearl River estuary, the channel for the river to flow into the sea. With a population
over 57 million, the economically dynamic region is a land still rich with wildlife and nature further inland
from the coast.
Away from the major cities, the banks of the water channels teem with life and motion. Water lilies float on
the surface, their flowers gentle splashes of pink against a background of vivid natural colors. The
predominant one is green, with every hue possible within the canopy of leaves, proof of the countless forms
of plants living here. In the marshes, cranes stand rigidly still, eyes always keen for the slight nibble of a fish
on their one leg in the water, with the sun above it all, gleaming as if it approves of how the nature has been
preserved. The slight breeze of the wind acts upon all, adding a rather set angle to the position of the plants,
the leaves fluttering along as if they wanted to be set free from its confined place on the stem. A constant
gushing sound is heard, due to the motion of the water downstream, its movement and clarity casting bright
sharp reflections of light back at its source. The water here does not have the crystal clarity of what it was
further upstream, nor is it the polluted dirt color that it will be transformed into later on. The water, in its
current state and color, seems infused with its own spirit, emanating a feeling of joy of being able to keep on
moving, in the endless cycle of evaporation, condensation and precipitation.
The further the current flows downstream, the color green becomes less and less predominant, being
replaced with more and more man-made structures, dirtier shades of dark colors, and the occasional litter
floating around in the water. The atmosphere has been changed, slowly but surely, from the beautiful bright
haven of life to a field of sickness, poison and pollution. Yet death is scarce here, for there is hardly any life.
This concentration of despair varies from place to place, some places having a much higher intensity of this
plague than others. In such places, the air is tainted grey from the noxious fumes emanating from factory
chimneys, lazily seeping into the earth’s atmosphere. The boldness of the concrete should stick out like a
sore thumb next to the water, yet it seems to blend in, as the color of the water has darkened to such an
extent. But some of the outlets are less clogged with filth, and still contain the faint traces of nature’s
blessing.
At night, everything is shrouded in darkness. Yet on most days, the only light comes from manmade
sources, as no shard of moonlight is able to pierce through the stifling blanket of clouds. The rattle of
machinery slices itself occasionally through the midnight air, while the stench of oil and garbage lingers in
ones nostrils. Sometimes, though, the clouds do part, and the moon is once more a visible luminous body
within the sky. The light that radiates off the moon is different, a gentle wash of yellow-white illumination
that seems to bathe everything in liquid moonlight, making them glow with an inner aura. Perhaps the
machinery seems to be a little softer, or the smell seems to change a little, from the dark, nauseous smell
back to the fresh, crisp aroma of the environment upstream. But even in the soft radiance of the moon,
visibility is limited, and it seems that, for just a night, we seem to hear the almost imperceptible gush of the
water, and believe that the river is peaceful again. For another chance to return to its former state, a state of
serene calm, pristine beauty, all tinged with the same element of hope.
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