The container that Lee A-rom (39) brought with her looked familiar. It didn't seem any different from the typical food waste bin. However, opening the lid did not release the expected foul odor; there was only the scent of mixed watermelon rinds and tangerines. Lee smiled and said, "I put in the effort." Together with her neighbors, she has been running a group that turns food waste into compost, a journey recently captured in her new book, Organic Punk Declaration.

As a freelance journalist, Lee has harbored doubts about the word "eco-friendly." Is continuously consuming items like tumblers, stainless steel straws, and bamboo toothbrushes the right response to the climate crisis? Instead of buying new things, she contemplated ways to completely eliminate waste. At the very least, a path for food waste was visible: composting. Food is finely chopped and placed in a "compost bin," and moisture is periodically drained. After fermenting it by adding vinegar, microorganisms, and other solutions, it is completely dried. After a certain amount of time, it turns into pitch-black compost that can be returned to the earth.

Grand environmental agendas weren’t what drove Lee. She was simply curious about where and how the food waste she threw away ended up. "I came across the news of a worker who died from overwork at a waste treatment facility, and I heard that treated food waste is fed to animals," she said. "I couldn't carelessly place such a heavy burden on other people and animals." Although she had basic knowledge accumulated from 10 years of farming in a small garden, she also went through her fair share of trial and error. Organic Punk Declaration contains the optimal know-how left at the end of that journey.

Community is the core of this book. What seemed too daunting to tackle alone was accomplished together with like-minded people. In 2021, Lee and a few neighbors created the "Decomposition Garden," securing a small space rented in a neighborhood park through the local resident autonomy council. They set up a "compost station" where members gather periodically to empty their compost bins and discuss what plants to grow. Lee noted that the group goes beyond serving as the driving force for food composting—it is a source of bond in itself. "When you know what each other eats, you feel a tremendous sense of intimacy. Nowadays, many people don't even greet their next-door neighbors. Through this meeting, I, too, experienced the feeling of 'our neighborhood' and 'neighbors' for the first time."

When viewing food waste disposal solely as a "chore to be handled," composting feels like taking the long way around. Reversing this perspective, Lee emphasizes "fun." The various "experiments" and anecdotes from gatherings featured in the book prevent composting from feeling like grueling labor. Lee shared that she finds it immensely enjoyable to share the process of balancing "scents" with her neighbors, such as layering multiple pieces of dried tangerine peels in the compost bin. Her diet even changed to reduce odors. For anyone who has harbored deep concerns about waste disposal, many parts of her story are bound to make their eyes sparkle.

What about those without a deep sense of problem-solving awareness? Is there a bare minimum they can and should practice? "I don't think I'm all that different from them," Lee said, before opening up. "It would be great if people could at least squeeze out the moisture before throwing it away. Food waste treatment facilities spend 80 to 90 percent of their energy just removing water. If everyone reduced the moisture before discarding it, it would significantly ease the burden on transportation and treatment processes."

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