At last they have come.
From a remote province tucked within the Middle Kingdom,
Made by the seasoned hands of a faceless proletarian,
Slaving away the long hours within a polluted factory belt.
To be packed away on a rickety truck for a thousand-mile journey to the coast,
To board a rusty vessel that would brave the monsoon in the southern seas,
To arrive here, thousands of miles to the south,
Just to provide that extra bit of comfort for her students’ butts,
At a fraction of the costs incurred
If they were made by the raw hands of another faceless proletarian
Just a few miles from her doorstep.