Tree with soft but flaky barks line the streets of my homeward path. They are called the Hundred Thousand Layer Tree.

The Hundred Thousand Layer tree has a soft and flaky bark. Google says that its common name is "Paper-Bark Tree" because the layers can be peeled off and written on, but that's not quite accurate. Well, the layers can indeed be peeled off and its function does have something to do with writing, but it's the eraser and not the paper that the resilient barks become. Here's how the real story goes:

Once upon a time, when Taiwan was still a part of the United Nations and kids in rural areas wore shorts made of flour sacks, stationeries were luxury items for school kids. Paper and pencil were obvious priorities that allowed students to provide proof of at-home intellectual activity. Erasers, on the other hand, seemed somewhat secondary, if not frivolous, in the eyes of the optimistic. But as we all know, a lesson is best learnt from corrected mistakes, so effective learning calls for erasers. This is where the heroic Hundred Thousand Layer tree comes to the rescue. Keen students attentive to the accuracy of their writing peeled off the barks and used it as eraser. It does the job, but the smudge marks are inevitable. And as the patriotic song hails of the national flower, the plum blossom is most brilliant in the coldest climate. Likewise, kids with the harshest home financial situation were often the keenest. Facetiously but knowingly, my imagination began to construct a correlation between the homework score and the amount of smudges on the page.

They say that it doesn't hurt the tree when you peel the bark off, but I still get angry when people do that. The days of material depravity are long past, and there is no need to use the bark for either paper or eraser. They say it's just a callous surface. Sure, how'd you like me to peel off the tougher skin on your heels? These layers protected the tree, and it was out of benevolence and necessity that the trunk was stripped of its soft papery covers. Even when the streets are still slightly damp from the rain, the bark would be dry but supple. And the layered edges make it feel slightly rough but gentle to the touch. And through the over-interpretive eyes of the grown-up girl, each layer of the trees along that homeward path represented each of my walks up and down that corridor.