In this memory, I’m about four. I’m travelling on a bullet train with my family when I spot a balloon flying over the field outside the window. “What’s that?” I ask my father sitting next to me. It’s not only a strange place for a balloon to fly, but this balloon seems to fly very […]
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The summer when I was in Grade 7, my social science teacher gave us an assignment to create a clay model of a historical figure we admired. “It can be anybody from any period of time,” my teacher instructed. “It can be a whole body or a bust. You choose!” Being a fan of creative
Sitting in the parkWith my back propped against a wallMy eyes swim to the tree in front of me A woman walks past with her lunchA man walks by with his dogConstruction workers take a break on the road Time passes byAs I sit here andMy eyes follow the swaying leaves in the sky
One summer day when I was about nine, I visited my childhood best friend’s house with my other best friend. It was a get-together of the three families that we used to do a few times a year. As soon as we arrived in the afternoon, we children started playing outside while adults went inside
Let’s do NothingSitting on a benchLooking ahead Feel the breeze on your skinHear the rustling sound of leavesListen to the birds Your mind becomes blankJust like the sky above your headYou forget how to think And you finally feel aliveFloating in this momentDoing nothing at all
When I was little, I had two very close friends. We grew up in the same community, and our families knew each other well. Even after we moved to different parts of the town, every summer, the three families would go on a camping trip together. One summer, I became into insects and brought a
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I walk to the FarmAs the sun sets andThe dusk falls around us Barefoot on the grassThrough the humid evening airUntil I come under the walnut tree There I sit in quietListening to the birds and insectsWatching the colour change in the sky SuddenlyThe world feels biggerFull of adventures As wonder returnsMy body lightensMy spirit
In this memory I’m about eleven. I’ve just finished my weekly group lesson at a local music school, and now stand with my two best friends in the hallway. Our mothers are nearby, busy talking. The building that houses our music school is old and dilapidated. As I chat with my friends, I notice that
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When I was in high school, I used to take a subway to the nearest station, then walk to school from there. Close to the school, there was a small Buddhist temple with a cemetery. It was my daily habit to look inside the cemetery through the gap of decorative stone fence. One morning, I
When leaves fell from the treesAnd the snow came alongI closed my windowAnd forgot about the windchime On a dark winter daySometimes I’d hearA chime ringing in the distanceIt’d feel like a dream Now as new leaves sproutAnd flowers bloomThe sound of windchime once againThrough the open window Only this timeIt’s accompanied byBirds and people’s
