I stuffed balloons with various objects before inflating them, then pinned them all over my body. I also wrapped flowers in newspaper to make some “trash”.
Outside Linsen Park, a mother sat on a bench with her toddler. The boy, around two years old, pointed at me and said, “Ball.”
In an alley, three women were waiting for their family. One said my outfit was very fun and cheerful. I invited her to choose her favorite balloon and pop it with the tip of a pen. Out fell a losing scratch-off ticket. Her immediate reaction was that it felt like a surprise.
A young boy ran over and shouted that he wanted to try. He jabbed forcefully. This time, liquor bottle caps spilled out. He yelled, “Trash!” and demanded another turn. His takeaway was, “Don’t litter!”
Another woman said, “Ah, do you mean that something can look glamorous on the outside but not be so nice inside?” The scratch-off ticket was given to her as a keepsake. But the boy refused the bottle caps: “If I bring this home, they’ll think I was drinking!”

On the couch outside Neon Café sat two men: a foreigner and an overseas Chinese. The foreigner looked at me and said, “I hope this isn’t a virus.” The other noticed there was something inside the balloons.
When invited to pop a balloon, the foreigner said he’d already chosen the pink one. Inside were prescriptions and medical bills. They kept laughing, confused but entertained.
At the Shuanglian and Minquan intersection, a mother and son were arguing loudly. It sounded like he wasn’t answering her calls, and she was demanding back the phone she’d bought for him. They started shoving each other. My helper said the mother froze for half a second when she saw me, then went straight back to her fury.
On Chifeng Street, two young women and a man approached. The man wanted to pop a balloon. He chose a black one and kept jabbing until it finally burst, revealing dried leaves and flowers. After I shared what had been inside the earlier balloons, the girl on the left thought it was just everyday life. The girl in the middle interpreted it as: “Looks are deceiving!” I handed her a ball of newspaper from a trash bag. She opened it and found a flower. “Oh, if I hadn’t opened this, I really would’ve thrown it away as garbage.”

A mother and her young daughter popped a balloon. Out came a pile of discount stickers from convenience stores, but neither of them knew what they were.
At the Xinzhongshan market, another mother and daughter appeared. The young girl in glasses popped a balloon and out came a flyer for a mental health clinic. A nearby uncle and some bystanders looked on. The mother’s immediate impression: “Environmentalism.”
At a jewelry stall on the corner, the shopkeeper said it looked fun and asked if it was free. She told the man next to her to pop a balloon while she filmed. This time, a bag of supplements fell out. He had no immediate reaction, and soon after, their food delivery arrived.
At a bus stop, a little girl asked, “Can I play?” She popped a balloon and got a hairpiece. “Kids with cancer might need this,” she said. She wanted to keep it.

At the entrance of an art opening, the adults were busy sending off a VIP. A middle school girl, seeing a balloon with a smiley face, popped it. Empty aluminum medicine packages fell out. “My mind’s blank. Can you help me?” she asked her mom. Her mom repeated my reminder, “There’s no right answer.” A few seconds later, she said, “I know! Health is the most important thing!”
Just past Minquan Road, an auntie closing her stall said the bright colors lifted her mood. “People in Taiwan dress so dull, no matter the season. That’s why I can only sell boring clothes.” She popped a balloon and got a tampon. She had been hoping for candy. She guessed that I was trying something creative. Her interpretation: “Overlooked details of everyday life.”
The auntie told me I had a great smile. A passerby wanted to browse her stall, but she stopped me from leaving because she wasn’t done talking. As she kept chatting and selling, one of the older ladies popped a balloon with an IOU. “That just means debt!” she said. I gave her a newspaper ball. She thought there might be money inside. When she saw a flower instead, she beamed, “So pretty!”
On a bench by the road, an older man in a cap from a temple asked, “What are you doing?” I asked if he had a moment or was waiting for someone. “I’m waiting for something. I’ve got business to do,” he said. “Don’t bother me! I’m busy!”

An older man waiting for the bus thought the balloons looked beautiful. As his bus approached, he asked if I was promoting something. I told him I just wanted to talk to people. and handed him a newspaper ball. My helper later said the man opened it, saw the flower inside, and smiled deeply, as if in thought.
At the park strip by Yuanshan MRT, two young women popped a balloon containing my left wrist brace. Without any explanation, she immediately recognized it as “mommy wrist”. She was studying physical therapy. Her interpretation was “trying to cover up imperfection”, though she had expected a small gift. Her friend thought it was a really cool experience.
A foreign caregiver, an elderly woman, and her son sat on a bench beneath the MRT tracks. The grandmother asked, “What kind of show is this?” After that, it was mostly her son who interacted with me. He popped a balloon with a low-income assistance application. He thought it was “the bits and pieces of everyday life.”
An auntie on a walk asked what the activity was. She said she liked all the balloon colors but didn’t want to take any of them. I said, “Then pop one!” A pay stub fell out, which she mistook for a menu at first. “From afar, you seem like such a cheerful person,” she said. “But what’s inside didn’t disappoint me. We all need to express what’s inside.”

In front of Wenchang Temple, two girls passed by. One suddenly widened her eyes when she saw me, thinking I might be a street performer. She popped a balloon and out came screenshots of paid likes and online hate comments. Her impression was “aggression.”
Back in Zhongshan, I ran into people I’d seen earlier but hadn’t interacted with. One girl asked, “Why are your balloons all popped?” She picked the smiley-face balloon but wanted me to spin around first. Out came pimple patches and eyelid tape. Her takeaway: “A beauty surprise pack” and “imagination about the unknown.” She asked why I wanted to play this game.
A girl at a market stall asked, “What kind of game is this? Is it an experiment?” She wondered if the balloons had water inside. She’d seen me walk by earlier that morning. When she popped a balloon with a few Band-Aids. Her immediate impression was “healing.” After hearing some balloons also held bottle caps, she said, “I love drinking!”
A woman sketching at Xinzhongshan asked before popping, “Will this hurt you? I’m afraid of stabbing you.” Out came a therapist’s business card. I handed her a newspaper ball, and when she asked what it was, I said, “Just some trash.” When she found a flower inside, she asked to take a photo of me with it.

A couple came by. The girl chose a black balloon with dried leaves and flowers. She didn’t want to know what others had gotten.
As the balloons popped one by one, I felt a strong sense of being awkwardly exposed in the last thirty minutes, like a bird being stripped bare of its feathers.
In the past, parents would pull their kids away from me. This time, everyone smiled warmly.
Special thanks to J and helper Chen for their support in preparation and documentation.

Let's puncture the colorful fantasy

Knitting Our Own Cages