LINK 2019

Publisher: English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., Session 2018-2019 Editor: Chow Yue Ching Felix (felix.hkuengsoc@gmail.com) Cover Art: Kana Poon (kana.hkuengsoc@gmail.com) Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HKU.English/ Instagram: hkuengsoc Issuu: https://issuu.com/hkuengsoc Email: engsoc@connect.hku.hk Address: 2A01(1), Fong Shu Chuen Amenities Centre, The University of Hong Kong Disclaimer: English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U. does not own any of the graphics in this publication (except original photos).

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Contents 2 Foreword 6 Meet our Excos!

12 In Retrospect 16 HKU Memories 21 Nostalgia 32 Creative Works 52 Recommendations

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Editorial Foreword

I

chose this theme for LINK because I believe all memories deserve an audience. LINK has always been meant as a platform on which students could share their memories and thoughts with the wider world, and I am so so so grateful that I have been given the chance to share them. It has been a valuable and humbling experience.

It is a memory I will always cherish.

Your stories are here, in print, at last.

Recognize them, dear reader.

Keep them.

Lest they only live in memory.

Felix

Take care of all your memories.

For you cannot relive them.

-Bob Dylan

Meet our ExCos! About the Society: Founded in 1960, English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., is an academic society which aims to promote the use of English to its members and all HKU students. With academic events to deepen HKU students’ understanding towards the language and its usage, and exciting activities such as the ball, the orientation programme and so on, it is hoped that students would find using English outside the classroom an enthralling experience. The Society also acts as a bridge between students taking English courses and the School of English, helping students voice out their opinions in order to foster a better learning environment for all. Our cabinet strives to uphold the mission of English Society by serving our members and making a positive contribution to their school lives.

Our Motto: Dare to discover the valour in you We believe that everybody has a hero, one who is not born with superpowers, but is a person who possesses traits such as valour, ambition and determination when others are too afraid to speak out. Hence, our motto this year is Dare to discover the valour in you, an attempt to encourage both ourselves and our fellow HKU students to be brave when others are not and to be proactive in initiating one’s journey of self-exploration and self-understanding. Our ultimate goal is to inspire others similar to the way our heroes have inspired us. Through our events, we hope to challenge our members to reach out of their comfort zone, and thus be able to discover positive values within themselves.

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Shania Siu Chairperson

Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major),Sociology (Minor) Hobbies: Creative writing, singing, reading and daydreaming Favourite Author: Mitch Albom Personality Type: ENTJ-T (The Commander) Personal Motto: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) Fun fact about me: I love being in love and writing my own songs and stories.

I’m also incredibly extra, overly idealistic and have a pictureperfect vision for my future that I wish to actualize: to be happily married to my charming other half, be a successful full-time novelist, have a female Golden Retriever and a male Shiba Inu, and two children (a boy and a girl).

John Bewley

External Vice-Chairperson Prospective Majors/Minors: French (Major), Politics and Public Administration (Major) Hobbies: Badminton, table tennis, reading, listening to music Favourite Book: Dracula, Bram Stoker Personality Type: ESFJ-A (The Consul) Personal Motto: Never compromise for less.

Fun fact about me: My full name is John Kevin Valentine Bewley. The day my mother received a phone call from the gynecologist saying she had me was, believe it or not, on Valentine’s Day; hence the unique middle name. I have mixed feelings about it, but it’s definitely mint for breaking the ice when people get curious.

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Tutti Sung

Internal Vice-Chairperson

Prospective Majors/Minors: Translation (Major) Spanish (Major) Hobbies: Watching Youtube and Netflix, reading, listening to music, singing, sleeping, eating Favourite makeup product: Lipstick Personality Type: ISFJ-T (The Defender) Personal Motto: Hakuna Matata. (No Worries) Fun facts about me: I am the embodiment of the phrase ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. Why? I look cool when I am alone.

Others always think that I am difficult to approach.

But in reality, I am just a shy and awkward girl. If you get to know me, you will know that I’m pretty chill. I also feel awkward all the time and cannot approach others easily so I just stay quiet—and that’s not good.

Therefore, I decided to step out of my comfort zone when I started my university life. It is why I’m now an Executive Committee member of English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U..

Christy Kwok

Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major) Language and Communication (Major), General Linguistics (Minor) Hobbies: Does laughing at memes count?

Favourite Songwriter: Jon Bellion, Alex Turner Personality Type: INFP-T (The Mediator) Personal Motto: Everything happens for a reason.

Fun facts about me: Fun facts about me: there are no fun facts about me... Just kidding! (Or am I?) I guess a “unique” trait of mine is that I’d like to think that I’m funny but in reality, people are probably only amused because I’m laughing really hard at my own joke. I also love telling my friends I’m going to sleep then proceed to bombard them with tags on Facebook or Instagram.

Oh, I’m also a self-proclaimed Pun King, and have a penchant for anything related to cats or Vines.

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Secretary

Prospective Majors/Minors: Undecided Hobbies: Eating, sleeping, watching films, reading, traveling Favourite foods: Cheese, eggs Personality type: ENTP-T (The Debater) Personal motto: Less is more.

Fun facts about me: When I was six, I dreamt to be a singer.

When I was twelve, I wanted to be a writer.

When I was eighteen, I wished to achieve something remarkable.

Now, I would like to have a family with someone and raise two lovely children.

Kana Poon

Promotion Secretary

Rachel Heung Financial Secretary

Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major) Translation (Major) Spanish (Minor) Hobbies: Doing brush calligraphy, reading Favourite Author: W. Bruce Cameron Personality Type: ISFJ-T (The Defender) Personal Motto: In faith go forward.

Fun facts about me: I like Ernie, Olaf, and Pompompurin. My favourite colour is black and I love Golden Retrievers (and I just realized Shania does as well). I zone out a lot, so I probably spend 30% of my day drifting off (teehee!). If I do not respond to you when you call out my name, don’t worry, I’m not angry or anything, I’m just not paying attention. I’m also kind of abnormal. I don’t like to talk but I want to teach; I’m scared of facing crowds but I enjoy setting up stalls in art markets. See? I’m strange.

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Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major) Philosophy (Major) Hobbies: Publication Secretary Writing, reading, listening to Indie/Rock music, football Acting Academic Secretary Favourite Poems: Renascence by Edna St. Vincent Millay The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare Personality Type: ENFP-T (The Campaigner) Personal Motto: Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don’t care who’s listening.

Fun facts about me: I write poems. Or at least I try to. I fret way too often about whether they are good enough to be published, which is something I shouldn’t do. Because as with all things, it does seem like there is a learning process for how to not give a damn. I also have a love for really obscure bands like Joy Division, New Order and Pearl Jam.

Felix Chow

Clement Lo Social Secretary

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Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major), Translation (Major) Spanish (Minor) Hobbies: Listening to music, shopping, dining, daydreaming, sleeping, hanging out with friends, taking long walks Favourite singers: Miriam Yeung, Sammi Cheng, Joey Yung, and Hins Cheung Personality type: ENFP-T (The Campaigner) Personal motto: If you keep on believing in your dreams, your wishes will come true.

Fun facts about me: I love Stitch. As a Disney-fanatic, I love all Disney films as they define my childhood.Believe it or not, ‘be happy’ is what Disney has taught me and that is why I always laugh! People say my laughter is contagious.What’s more, I love Cantopop. I think that it evokes resonance and that we should all listen to it. Try to go through the lyrics and you will gain more than you can imagine!

Loraine Kuk

Programme Secretary Acting Promotion Secretary

Elijah Tong

Marketing Secretary

Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major) Spanish (Minor) Hobbies: Stalking people Favourite Song: Wake Me Up by Avicii Personality Type: ENFP-T (The Campaigner) Personal Motto: Sometimes we break ourselves to leave behind the pieces that were never ours to carry.

Fun facts about me: I had trouble coming up with fun facts about me, but here are a few: 1.I get in heated debates with 75% of the boys I meet as they claim that I am shorter than them (It’s not true) 2.Call me Mei Yun and you will make my day 3.The other promotion secretary says that I am the sweetest girl in the world

Prospective Majors/Minors: English Studies (Major), Linguistics (Major) Hobbies: Playing softball and practicing Muay Thai Favourite activity: Sleeping Personality type: ISTJ-T (Logistician) Personal Motto: Be quiet if you know nothing.

Fun facts about me: I am not sporty at all but I live in Ricci Hall. I am nothing like a disciplined athlete, as I am the slowest runner in every sports team I am part of. On the other hand, I am quite an excellent copycat. In fact, I passed my ABRSM Grade 8 exam by simply copying the examiners’ moves and he wrote clearly on the mark sheet that he did not want to let me pass but had to as I scored higher than 120 marks.

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English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U.

In Retrospect 2018 November - 2019 March

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Inauguration Ceremony 20 November, 2018 The Inauguration Ceremony, held on the 20th of November marked the installation of English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., Session 2018-2019.

The purpose of this event was to facilitate communication between the members of the Society and the School of English, and strengthen our bond This was the first event of our session, so we were, of course, rather nervous and worried as there were many uncertainties. Even though we were inexperienced, our Executive Committee members all tried their best to make the event a success.

During the ceremony, the guests—including representatives from the School of English, Executive Commitee members of our fellow Societies, and other guests - got the chance to know more about us, our work, and our activities for the coming year. The most enjoyable part was when we got to mingle with our guests while sipping wine and eating the delicious food generously provided by our sponsors. Seeing our guests enjoying our event was certainly very fulfilling.

Although the ceremony was not perfect and we did make some mistakes, I am proud to say that we could call it a good and successful start for English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U., Session 2018-2019.

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Maritime Ball tu

Wish Upon A Star 15 February, 2019 Maritime Ball—Wish Upon A Star was successfully held on the 15th of February—the day after Valentine’s Day, a time when romantic spirits were at its peak. Inspired by Disney’s fairy tales, we set the theme as Wish Upon A Star, hoping to build an atmosphere akin to a dreamlike paradise where fate brings people together.

On by the exquisitely—decorated patio, our participants immersed themselves in the slow dance session accompanied by wellchosen love songs. What followed was the first band performance by The Faulty Royals, and they sang popular songs that hyped up the atmosphere. Participants also got the chance to mingle with friends and take pictures at the photo-booth. As the ball drew to the end, T.B.C. gave their performance. They chose songs that were ingeniously rearranged by themselves and ended with a beautiful rendition of the classic song ‘Beauty and the Beast’. The ball ended in applause, and the wonderful memories made that night were captured in photographs.

The Ball had over 120 participants and I am confident in saying that our participants all had an unforgettable night filled with great food and music.

I believe we can most definitely call Maritime Ball—Wish Upon A Star a resounding success and we are exceedingly grateful to all participants for their support.

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English Festival 

Book Sharing-Book Fair Academic Dialogue-Academic Talk 18 March, 2019- 2 April, 2019 English Festival 2019 was successfully organized from mid-March till early April. We kickstarted the festival with the Book Sharing, an all-new event. Participants brought along books to share and a lively discussion on how heroes were presented in them was conducted. Concurrently, we also organized the Book Fair. We introduced a Book Donation to help our members pass on their pre-loved books to others. In accordance with our theme, the books sold during the Book Fair encompassed many literary forms. Titles ranged from Paradise Lost (an epic poem) to The Adventures of Tintin (a comic book series).

For the Academic Dialogue, we were delighted to invite Dr. Jason Polley and Dr. Elizabeth Ho. Dr. Ho was kind enough to preface the discussion by giving a talk on Asian-Americans in comics. Dr. Polley also raised interesting points regarding the comic book hero, showing participants that heroes in comic books could be normal individuals too. Participants learnt that comic books and graphic novels are not just a form of entertainment, but also a form of literature.

For the Academic Talk, Dr. Stephen Weninger gave an enlightening talk on the heroic character, using examples ranging from Beowulf to Watchmen. The talk was held at Happy Park and had a large turnout.It was an enthralling talk and the perfect event to end the English Festival with. In all, the Society is confident that participants all gained something through the English Festival.

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HKU MEMORIES

FEATURING: INTERVIEWS WITH PROFESSOR CHRISTOPHER HUTTON AND PROFESSOR RICKY CHAN 16

PROFESSOR CHRISTOPHER HUTTON

is currently the longest serving professor in the School of English. We are more than honoured to have the chance to hear him share his favourite HKU memories.

Dr. Hutton -H Felix -F Christy -C F: According to the School of English website and Professor Kuehn, you’re the longest-serving professor here. So when did you start teaching here at HKU? H: I arrived here on August 1st 1989, and started teaching here that September.

F: Seeing that you’ve been here for a long time, what would you say your favourite memory of HKU is?

H: Some of the best memories are to do with the students, who are such good students, they’re the best as you can find anywhere. The other thing I remember are the conversations.

I always enjoy discussions with students or colleagues. The funny thing about memories is that the early periods are quite clear, but the middle parts become less so. I remember coming to HKU, but the years after just go by.

F: We freshmen like to go to Main Building during our Orientation Camps and listen to spooky ghost stories - so are there any stories of legends you’d like to share with us?

H: The students say that the Japanese tortured people in the building during the war but I don’t know if that’s true. A lot of my colleagues believed in Feng Shui, and I remember one of my colleagues had a big mirror up in his office to deflect back against the head of the department!

F: Besides MB, what would you say is your favourite place in HKU? H: I guess Delifrance, because I like the tea there. I like my office too. But I don’t think the campus is very relaxing as a whole because it’s always quite crowded - it’s like being in Mong Kok! I think that’s a bit stressful for everybody.

F: How do you think HKU has changed through your tenure here?

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H: I’d say that both students and teachers have become more diverse. I think it’s more professional as a university and more bureaucratic now - so there’s more of what I call managerial things. In the old HKU there were more eccentric professors, but now they’re more professional. I think when I arrived the students were also more from local backgrounds. But now, the student body is much more diverse - even the HK students.

C: Do you feel like you’re watching the school grow as a whole? Or do you miss those old days?

H: Yeah definitely! It’s much bigger than it was. It’s more professional now. I like the school as it is now, it is a good place to work. I do miss those crazy characters a little, but being a professor now is a more professional thing than it used to be. You can’t have everything - you cant have professionals and lots of crazies. I don’t believe in that fake nostalgia, but there’s quite a bit of it in Hong Kong. We shouldn’t romanticize the past.

F: Do you think “memories” is a helpful tool in literature? Like for example the usage of flashbacks.

H: The flashback is a modern technique. It’s quite cinematic. I would suggest Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex since they use flashbacks there. Though I think it’s quite interesting not in novels but in real life because sometimes you have memories triggered C: Yeah! You see something and you’re just thrown back in time. This phenomenon is quite ineffable.

H: Indeed. You don’t know why. Memory is such amysterious thing. Sometimes it’s just a random association, not even a rational one. Such as in Remembrance of Things Past, there’s a flashback when he bites into the madeleine cake that makes him remember. That’s a flashback triggered by association. I studied Proust in university as I did French but I must admit that I’ve never finished the book...

F: Are there works where the theme of “memories” plays a significant part you’d like to recommend to our readers?

H: Well, this is a bit of a cliche but I would recommend the film Rashomon, which is a 1950 Japanese period psychological thriller. I would also recommend the non-fiction book Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks that deals with music and memory. Even people with dementia, their music memory remains. Music is the most profound human form of memory - songs, instruments are things that survive the longest. It’s really amazing. You should read it, Sacks is a popular author, psychologist and neurologist. What he’s saying is that the person doesn’t really disappear even if you don’t feel like they’re there. Music isn’t just a cultural thing, its integral to human cognition.

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PROFESSOR RICKY CHAN

is currently an assistant professor in the School of English and an HKU alumnus. We are delighted to have the chance to hear about his student days here.

Dr. Chan -RC Felix -F Christy -C C: When did you graduate from HKU? RC: Wow...It’s been a while. I graduated in 2010 for my bachelor’s degree and completed my MPhil here as well in 2012.

C: What did you major or minor in?

RC: I did the BA&BEd double-degree, and I majored in English and Linguistics. I really enjoyed learning about second language acquisition and psycholinguistics.

C: What’s your favourite memory of HKU from your student days here?

RC: I wouldn’t say I have one favourite memory, because there are a lot of great memories. guess in terms of academics I really liked learning about second language acquisition and psycholinguistics, as I’ve mentioned just now. I was also part of Education Society, HKUSU, and was in University Hall and Morrison Hall — and I’ve made some great memories there too.

C: What’s your favourite place in HKU? Why? RC: Definitely Main Building! So my office used to be in the Main Building, and I really like the atmosphere there because there is a lot of history in that building! I also find it really relaxing to just sit on one of the benches near the fountains and not do anything. It’s really relaxing and relieves my stress. But my new office here is great too - it has a more academic vibe to it because everything is more modern and polished.

C: Yeah! I guess it is quite tranquil there, but it can get quite hot in summer!

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F: During your student days, did you participate in any events organized by the English Society? If yes, which ones?

RC: Yes actually! I joined the orientation camp and it was really fun. They had many fun activities, like water fights, detective games and all that... I really liked it and had a good time. It’s a great starting point for university life as you get to meet new people and friends.

F: What extracurricular activities did you join during your time in HKU? RC: I was part of an acapella group called Mosaic for three years and did some sports as part of my hall activities - though I didn’t really like it since I’m not that sporty.

I played hockey at first but didn’t like it since my face is hidden under the helmet.

Thus, I played for the softball team instead. I was also part of Bridge Club, Choir and Drama Clubs of my halls. I was also an Executive Committee member of the Education Society and I really enjoyed planning and organizing events. I also enjoyed playing board games in the Society Room too!

F: What would you say is the biggest difference between HKU back then and now?

RC: Well... not much, honestly. I mean it hasn’t been too long since I’ve graduated though it certainly feels like it! But I would say that the food quality was much better back then. I’ve tried the new canteens and let’s j say some of them could be better.The student body is also more diverse.

F: What made you decide to teach here at HKU? RC: I was asked to by Dr. Janny Leung. Dr. Leung and Professor Dirk Noel actually supervised my MA! But anyway, she asked me if I wanted to work here after I graduated from my masters, and I love the atmosphere here and I love teaching so of course, I said yes. Although I originally planned to teach in a secondary school, I’m glad I’m here now.

C: Do you have any advice for those studying in HKU now? Perhaps something you wish you knew during your time in HKU. RC: Not much to say honestly. I guess some good advice would be to start your essays early, - at least one week before the due date. Time management is crucial too. Just work hard and study hard, and I’m sure you’ll do well.

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Nostalgia Our memories Our thoughts Our stories 21

Shania Siu Chairperson Memories shape who we become, but are always either forgotten or consciously replaced by ones we deem more valuable.

The following is a piece I wrote on my favourite memory, and to me, it signifies how some special moments end up looping in your mind. Simply because memories exist in hindsight, after new events have unfolded and after we realize how important that moment would eventually become to the rest of our lives.

The spotlights dimly shone over her head, slowly swaying across the hall in purple and blue.

He found it strange, seeing so many unfamiliar faces in the hall he had grown up in. Perhaps, they both thought, they would meet someone new tonight, and become strangers again after a month, just like all the others do after these social events.

Blue was his choice, and so was hers. She had reached around in the pot for red, but perhaps destiny had hidden it from her. The yellow tag stuck out oddly, but neither of them took notice.

“What does your tag say?” he said, approaching her for the first time in the group of Blues.

“One,” she said, squinting at the yellow tag on her wrist.

Barely audible over the music, he said back, “Me too,” He gestured an arm towards the empty area behind them, and they stood next to the Christmas tree, waiting for the other party to start a conversation.

“So, what year are you in?” he asked. She answered and returned the question to him. Back and forth they went, not realizing that this conversation would end up being the first out of the thousands they would have over the next few years and counting.

Destiny speaks the loudest when it thinks you are not listening; we mostly retain the memories we think are worth reliving.

That day, she heard destiny speak the loudest that it had ever spoken before.

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After my mum recovered from cancer when I was in primary 3, I think her perspective on life changed completely. She called it a day on her professional career and decided to be a fully committed “home engineer”(I prefer this term to “housewife”). She would walk me to school, take me to my extra-curricular activities, have lunch and dinner with me and so on. Yet, the thing I remember the most were the late Friday afternoons and evenings we spent together when I was in P.3 to maybe P.5 or 6.

John Bewley External Vice-Chairperson

In Wan Chai, there’s a very long and famous narrow alley called Tai Yuen Street, which is reputed for its various shops and stalls selling toys. My mum would take me there on Fridays to buy some of the latest toys, which would now belong in a museum, such as Beyblades, Gundam models, Bakugan Battle Brawlers etc. Later, we’d randomly pick a restaurant out of the countless in Wan Chai or Causeway Bay and dine there.

Finally, we’d take the tram (my favourite mode of transportation) back to my home in North Point. I admit, they weren’t action-packed days, It might seem nonsensical to you that these but I looked forward seemingly ordinary days mean so much to me. to them nevertheless.

Now, when I look at the photos I took with my mum then, I think the same thing as well sometimes. Yet, the impulse to preserve our sweetest memories is an immensely powerful force. My mum has subsequently had back and forth battles with cancer, and even though she’s all clear at the moment, we know for a fact that should it happen again, things won’t be so...rosy. It pains me to say this, but that’s probably why I hold these little flashbacks so dearly, because I know that if it does happen again, the only time I would ever be able to hold my mum’s hand like when I was a child, would be in my memories.

Treasure your memories, but most importantly, treasure the people and things you’ve shared them with, because trust me, it makes a helluva difference.

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Tutti Sung Internal Vice-Chairperson

Memories. I have too many. It is so hard to recall the best one because they are all the best. How can I share my memories with you in only 300 words? Impossible! But if I really have to, I would tell you the craziest moment of my life.

It happened last summer in Porto (a.k.a. my graduation trip). I went on a local kayaking tour and kayaked all the way from one island to another.

I almost died in the middle! Luckily, with the help of the tour guide, I managed to reach the island and climbed up the cliff. Jumping off the cliff was part of the plan. It sounded scary but I was super excited as I am an adventurer. To be honest, height wasn’t my weakness at all. However, jumping off the cliff was another challenge. It was about pushing my limits. I was not afraid of height but letting go. I stood on top of the cliff for around 15 minutes before jumping.

Thoughts rushed into my mind. Would I die? Would I hit the rock? Should I give up? Should I jump?

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” Just before I gave up, some people out of nowhere started counting down for me and I screamed and jumped. There were no words I could use to describe my feelings. I felt amazing. I felt proud. I felt brave.

It was just so nice that I broke through my boundaries. That was the craziest moment of my life.

Every moment of my life is memorable as they have made me who I am today. Some are crazy. Some are happy. Some are sad. If my life was a book, each chapter would be a memory. I won’t have a favorite chapter, but this book will surely be my favorite.

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CHRISTY KWOK General Secretary

As a person with a memory described to be like a goldfish, I can vouch that memories can often be forgotten or twisted in a way that is far from reality - so why do so many people dwell on their memories when they can be deemed unreliable? To me, I guess it’s because a memory can be like a guiding compass for us.

Memories can come in various shapes and sizes. It can be the “dreamy history” that we keep wandering back to, the scarring past that still leaves you shell-shocked, or even those mundane scenes that we remember nothing of except for maybe the ticking of the clock while you’re waiting for time to pass. All these experiences build us to be who we are today.

Think sweet memories, like your first kiss on a park bench in the balmy days of late summer. It can drag you out of the deepest pits of sadness on a bad day when you think back on that special and delightful memory. Or unpleasant memories, such as that fierce argument you had with your parents over some petty matter. Well, that can serve as a reminder and teach you a thing or two before diving into another heated conversation. Maybe stop and think before saying something irrational. I believe memories often play a huge role in helping us with our decisions. Whether it be a dilemma or keeping your emotions in check, our memories and experiences help us decide on our actions. And even if memories are unreliable or incorrect, I guess that just teaches us to cherish them - maybe keep them locked up in a diary - because there are no other memories just like them.

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Rachel Heung Financial Secretary I grew up on an island.

I do not like eating seafood.

As the only principal of the only secondary school on that island, my uncle was so respectable that I considered him as my idol. He is a big man surrounded by a handful of men with the same serious faces. I was the only little thing that could run around in his school, his office or even the empty classroom. I felt like I was some kind of princess with some special power. I felt so proud of being related to him. However, I was never treated like a princess at home. Just like other kids who love seeking attention from adults, the lonelier they feel, the harder they try. In my case, I tried very hard since I did not spend my childhood with my parents but with different relatives. I guess I needed more love and care from those strangers, including my respectable uncle. Therefore, it is understandable why I was a troublemaker.

Amongst all my memories, the most ‘remarkable’ one was stealing a shoe from my neighbour. To be frank, the only motivation behind this act was that I was curious about what would’ve happened if I did it.

What a “lovely” child I was! After that, I stole another shoe from the same family. Unfortunately, I got caught. I was punished by my auntie and I refused to say why I committed those crimes. I cannot recall how the story ended, but I vividly remember myself crying in front of my relatives and the victim. Sometimes I will wonder whether my uncle was disappointed. He had very high expectations of me and encouraged me to be a Chinese teacher, but it turned out that I was a shoe-stealer.

I still have plenty of funny stories from that island that I am proud to tell. Also, I have not been able to find a seafood dish that tastesbetter than the ones my uncle cooked for me.

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Kana Poon Promotion Secretary

Disclaimer: This piece of writing is gonna be really cliché.

Never do I like talking about myself, not to mention my past. So I would say this task is rather challenging to me.

Okay, so people say memories make you who you are today, and yes, I agree. Maybe you were praised for writing a word neatly at the age of five and you still remembered it till you were fifteen; or maybe you failed a history test by just 1 mark during your junior secondary years and you are still a little sad now. I believe everything happens for a reason. Once you are praised, you’ll always remember that yes, you have some kind of strength.

Once you fail a test, you’ll always remember that you are not that clever and you can’t go and sit an exam without being well prepared.

So why would people always want to erase parts of their memories? Because it didn’t look like what you wanted? Or because it was the stain of your life? Memories are never useless.

Without what happened in the past, you won’t be who you are today. You have grown to be tough because you were once bullied, oryou were mature since a young age because you had no one to rely on. Maybe these are bad memories but they made you better than you could imagine. Maybe you can’t see how it’s gonna change you at the moment, but one day, you’ll realise how crucial it is to your life journey. We are indeed made up of our memories, so no matter if your memories are colourful or monochrome, do cherish them, because one day, they will be your greatest treasure.

Oh and one last bit, make more special memories if you can so you won’t regret it when you look back.

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Felix Chow Publication Secretary Acting Academic Secretary I chose this theme for LINK because I believe all memories deserve an audience.

Being responsible for the platform on which these tales are told is a memory I’ll never forget.

My fellow ExCo members call me the resident writer of EngSoc, but I didn’t have an upbringing you’d associate with someone who’s alright at English.

I came from a lower middle class family and studied in a Band 2B school.

It’s my mother who I have to thank for my English ability. She isn’t a fluent speaker herself, but I remember how she bought Disney’s “World of English” learning set and made me and my brother watch those videos every day. My kindergarten days were spent at Central Library with her, reading storybooks together. I love her, even though I do a poor job of showing it. And I’ve promised myself, once I’ve finished this ExCo session, I’ll spend more time with her.

Mum, if you’re reading this: Thank you for everything. I love you.

The experience of editing LINK has reminded me of why I started writing in the first place. I remember being affected by Ginsberg and Bukowski, writers who romanticized writing as a form of unbridled expression and as a lifestyle, where one feels the world and reflects it in words. “The derangement of the senses”, as Rimbaud put it. I’m aware this idealized view towards writing may sound pretentious, but you can’t beat writing late in the night with a can of Guinness next to you once you’ve experienced it (right John?). Plus, it’s hard to be pretentious if you write straight from the heart, instead of writing to impress others. I’m guilty of florid prose from time to time, but I know how to laugh at myself. Unlike my steak, I like my writing raw. It’s more real that way.

Every artist wants to leave traces of their life behind in their work.

Whether it be oil on canvas, ink on paper, or images on film.

It’s because we hope to capture moments we cannot relive again.

I’ll never regret becoming an ExCo of English Society, A.A.H.K.U.S.U. Because I treasure all of the memories I’ve made here.

They’re here in LINK. Crystallized in ink.

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Clement LO Social Secretary How does a moment last forever? I was once trappedin a forest of uncertainty, running to and fro in search of a way to escape. I warily approached a looming monstrous thing. However, when I got slightly closer, it disappeared into the trees. Unfathomably, a transient ray of light illuminated the road ahead. I let go of all my worries and went forward, only to find that it was only an illusion which lead me onto the wrong track.

Life is a simple clichĂŠd routine. I drew a circle and am now trapped in it. I was innocent but now I am wiser.

Adulthood pushes you to confront all the impending dangers and wean off all the affection that we found incessant during our childhood.

Many of my fondest childhood memories involved my family, friends and Disney animations. I met my grandfather when I first came to the world. His benign smile made every moment with him so wonderful. He also made my childhood so safe and free from any possible dangers. He always took me out to the nearby playground. These were the times when all my loved ones were still here.

My parents sent me to an acclaimed kindergarten where people were kind and caring. I befriended many classmates and we all had a good time frolicking all around the school. My parents threw my first birthday party when I was three, with all friends invited. Relationships were simple at that time but now things might have changed, for we have lost contact for years. It was actually my mom who brought me into the world of Disney. Disney never stifled my imagination as a child, nor did it depict the extinction of hope in the midst of sorrow.

Disney movies always lift me up. I still hold on to the virtues Disney introduced me to.

I will continue to put on a smile, veiling all the despair underneath, and most importantly, I will have courage and be kind, because this is what my childhood has taught me.

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Loraine Kuk Programme Secretary Acting Promotion Secretary It was 6th March when I typed this out. A year ago, it was the parting ceremony in my secondary school, the day I had to say goodbye to my dearest class.

Encapsulated in my mind, these memories came whirring back as I flipped through my photobook: We called ourselves “Erudite”. Not only because we were in class 456E, but we were also the most intelligent ones among the whole form. With all the gurus of every area and subject in our class and all 32 hearts tied into knots, the chemistry between us made everything possible. We had won literally every award that could be presented by the school, and we couldn’t be any prouder.

Yet, it was our nonsensical acts that proved us to be jacks of all trades.

From justifying the righteousness of not handing in homework on time, to coming up ways to cut ties with a so-called teacher and having him/her out of our classroom forever, any psychiatrist would probably diagnose us with madness. Little did one know it was these crazy moments that brought out the sincerest laughter from all one of us and made us live a secondary school life without regret.

Words will never justify my affection to this class, as it is so passionate that I can’t string words together in any way that makes sense. The song “Lava” will do the job. We sang it as the farewell song in our parting ceremony. The euphony had hovered around every corner of my memory with my class. Here is a part of it: “I have a dream I hope it will come true That you will grow old with me, and I will grow old with you We thank the earth, sea, and the sky we thank too I lava you” People often say we should not dwell in the past and should open ourselves up to new beginnings. All I have ever wished is to turn back time.

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Elijah Tong Marketing Secretary I wasn’t always this taciturn, but my past has made me into who I am. I was once talkative and had many friends. Now, it is totally the opposite.

I have become timid and shy. I am not saying this without proof...

Of course, my family had an impact on this. I was not able to talk freely at home because my family members were strict. As I was the youngest, I would not dare to talk much. Things never ended well for me if I argued with them. Fortunately, this situation has got better.

My personal experiences, though, had a permanent influence on me. I was a P.5 student, in love with a girl whose sister was my classmate. I forgot how, but I started an online conversation with her. After some time, I knew that our relationship had been upgraded to being more than friends. With an elder sister and brother, it was not hard for me to know how being in a relationship felt like. I was confident and curious to try. I wrote her a love letter. However, I found my letter on the school playground the next day and got embarrassed as both her friends and mine teased me about it.

The other thing that affected me was the way I was notorious for being irritable in my secondary school. Most of the time, conversations ended in a dispute or with girls crying. I had meetings with teachers who wanted to pressurize me with the presence of my mum and lunch with my class teachers who were trying to know what I was thinking about.

Then, I got tired of those meetings and arguing with people. So, I ended up sitting in the corner, talking to no one and minding my own business.

These experiences seem to have made me nothing like a team player. For years, I have been trying to step out of the shade, but I guess, I am already trapped. Whenever I want to step out, my memories burn me, and I back down.

Goodbye, the old me.

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Creative works

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Mirror Memories Eyes vacant while grip loosens Cling! Mirror morphs into ice.

From all facets shoot a luminous show In each piece live I, but none whole.

A sparkly rose, tempting to touch but each piece bears thorns that cut.

Blood oozes from finger, tears ooze from eyes Blurry is the image of mine.

Lok Hang Vincent Chu

Such are your memories As if I am the ailment And they are the only remedy Or are they my enemy?

Like a moth to the flame I spent my days and nights to your name I always dreamt of being with you But that day never came

I surrendered in the war I waged Accepted that you couldn’t be mine Spent my nights alone with your memories Drowning in whiskey and wine Decided to move on, I did In the auction of love again, I bid Yet, It was of no avail I’ve always pictured you behind the wedding veil

Amidst friends, I hide my sorrow That anguish of you leaving me But whenever I see a bird flying away It reminds me of you deserting me

Kumar Shubham

33

Something Like Love When we first met, she didn’t talk much. She was young, yet, grown up.

When she spoke, she spoke in short snippets. Her sentences were filled with character, individuality and irrepressible youth. She was also elegant and kind, smart and beautiful.

She knew her way with words, and she knew her way to a person’s heart.

She knew her way to my heart.

Talking to her, it felt like something special was between us.

It felt like something warm.

I fell for her when the seasons changed. Fall to Winter, as the windy breeze started to edge closer, it laced my heart with a yearning for warmth. I yearned for her. She was warm. She was the sun and her smile shot me down like Apollo shooting his rays. I was “love shot”.

I was the complete opposite of her. I liked the darkness and the tranquil emptiness in the midst of a 4:00 am coffee-induced night. She slept early and woke up early, preferred the day rather than night. That’s what we were: the sun and the moon. Never should’ve crossed paths.

But we both did, took that leap on a whim, met on a September afternoon on the first day of Fall term.

I remember that day. I was the stubborn kid who stumbled into class late, the only seat left was somewhere at the back of the class or beside her and of course, I chose to sit next to the prettiest girl in class who seemed like she could spend her time doing anything but talking to the idiot next to her.

But I did say something, I think it was, “Hello,” And she met me with a small smile in return.

“Hi.” And then we hit it off with small talk. We exchanged names and talked about our majors, our classes, the weather, and why we chose to enrol in a language class when neither of us were particularly fond of Japanese lifestyle and culture. And I thought, wow, we never would’ve met if I hadn’t chosen to take the Monday noon class.

34

We sat together in empty restaurants, let our conversations flow along with the soft rhythms of jazz in the background. Just the two of us occupying the diner, it felt like a drama, or something out of a novel.

She intrigued you, her personality, charm, and god, her smile.

She was the classics reborn, something out of a movie, because, damn, where did this girl come from? Being with her, dare I say it, felt like romance.

I didn’t know what to do by the end of the month. At the end of the semester, I was 500% smitten.

It felt something like love.

We didn’t see each other for two months. She didn’t reach out or anything, and neither did I. Soon, it was winter break. The first term was over.

I realized it then, during that stretched, tampered time, of hazy mornings and stone cold nights, that we could never be. Because we never have been.

She was just being nice.

She was older too, so it was justified that her behaviour was like an older sister towards a younger sibling. It was like she was doing the planning and the organizing, the decision making, everything. She led me on, which was not her fault, but mine. I fell for simple genuineness and goodness in her heart.

It felt something like heartbreak.

I’d clung to an idea, fragments, and snippets of what could be. A planted seed, it flowered and danced in my mind.

The soil that was my imagination, it was not reality. I realised, real life is dilute. No, my romance will never be something like what you read in fiction. It will never be that epic, nostalgic and heartbreaking college romance with a halcyon ending. I was filled with false hope, a life painted with imagination.

My head was in the clouds and I couldn’t get out.

I was just desperate, in need for something like company. A friend. A companion. She gave me those things, so I liked her.

I never loved her, I thought. Not exactly. It was the love for the flower I grew. A flower I did not want to stop watering, because it had grown into something beautiful, however non-existent it was.

But I still believed. I still dreamed. For on the days when I did see her, we would look each other in the eye and exchange smiles. We didn’t say much, but we didn’t need to.

It felt like there was something between us.

It was something like hope.

35

The time we met for breakfast, it felt like something more than what friends would do.

Two young people meeting for breakfast at a restaurant filled with adults. It felt like we were together, in that relationship I yearned for and dreamed after.

I felt at peace. I was sitting on a stool and I was sipping some kind of Chinese herbal tea from a porcelain teacup. We were enclosed in a comfortable silence even though it was noise around us.

The tiny restaurant was renowned for serving dim sum. I was glad I could spend this time with her, however short, before she left for her hometown for Winter break and New Year celebrations.

When it was time to leave, she left me at the crossing. We went separate ways, she, back home to pack, and I, back to the university. Before we parted, she looked me in the eyes and smiled.

And again, for a fleeting instant, there was something between us – the flash of the remnants of a flower that could have been but never was. After those seconds – which felt like minutes – the flower became no more, lost in the forest that grew to envelop it.

The smile that I’ve grown fond of, it was small and soft. And I thought, despite her lack of makeup, bed hair and pyjamas, she looked beautiful that day.

—When she smiles at me, knowingly, I think she understands.

And for that, I will be grateful.

She’s still beautiful. A shining flower that floats further and further away from me each growing day. Blossoming into a warm, elegant woman.

I just want to say, thank you. For showing me what it’s like.

Something like love.

J

36

Immortal Instrument They say people die twice; Once, when we stop breathing and our bodies are confined to the grave, and the second time - perhaps one or two years later in the future, when we are remembered for the last time. “Remember me”, “Don’t forget me”, scribbled all over my yearbook with lopsided handwriting. The two seem to convey the same meaning, but not quite so – for not forgetting someone does not necessarily mean you remember them. A bit later on after going your separate ways, you might not forget each other, but your memories of them become hazy – smudged until they are all but a signature in the outer rims of your brain. Not forgotten, but not remembered.

More often than not, I walk pass Broadway on my way home. I see the wall of bright screens on display, and once in a while, instead of documentaries, they play movies. Walking by, my ears pick up the famous opening theme of a Disney production - and a familiar memory surfaces. Kind eyes that crinkle with a smile - my grandmother. In my mind’s eye, I saw a younger version of myself, sitting cross-legged on the sofa with her. Curtains closed as we rewound the movie tape and watched as the famous Disney opening flickered on. My grandmother never understood a word in the movie, I knew she would rather tune in on a Chinese Opera channel - but she understood that her granddaughter loved them and indulged me the same. A streak of dawning sunlight slipped past the swaying curtains and danced across my grandmother’s cheeks. Freckles adorned her aged face, but her laughter was youthful the same. Her arms draping her drawl on my shoulders as a breeze just as gentle passed quietly by. It must have been spring then, for those memories could not have been softer than that.

37

Sometimes an ice-cream truck with its navy-red pattern parks on the sidewalk. Its signature tune known by every child twinkles on unto the darkening sky. A symphony of wind chimes on and xylophones mimic the chords of a music box. Something stirs in my heart and for the briefest moment - flashed across my mind: a certain boy with his ruffled hair bent over the study, poring over book over book. I remember the music box chiming away in the background, soft crystal sounds echoing around the room. You said the acoustic music helps you focus, but I thought it sounded too much like a lullaby and it lull me to sleep. I didn’t hate the melody but never understood it – but I indulged you just the same. As I sat there working on equations on my glass table in the morning, what I would have settled for was not friendship, not anything. Just to look up and find you there, pen and paper, jade lined with silver, white button-up, lemonade. To look up and find you there. For a day will come when I’ll look up and you’ll no longer be there. Associated with every song that was a hit that summer, in every book I read after you, on anything from the faint smell of your cologne on hot days to the gentle rhythm of your footfall in the afternoon.

Every mundane memory after you is forever colored by the events of that summer.

Back on the sidewalk, the tunes poured through my veins and the thoughts of you slow my pulse.

They say people die twice but I beg to differ. No – If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. If a writer loves you, you are forever immortalized. Your image etched on paper, frozen in time and painted in ink. From their pen to their parchment, you are remembered as the writer’s favorite story. For their love was grand enough to turn you into words, paragraphs, novels. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind. Their memories will keep you alive. When I hear Celine Dion’s voice on the radio, nearing that chorus singing “my heart will go on and on”, this is what I think about. My heart does go on and on, on and on as my pen skimps across parchment, on and on.

Chiu Wing Sum Emily

38

She With a touch of warmth, the growing season had arrived. The windless, warm and blue sky was veiled with a haze of golden light. The sweet smell of flowers cut through the soft scent of the dewy grass. After all, the weather was ideal as if God had his own plans. It was a perfect day to do some walking with my beloved.

She had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Although we had been together for so long, since we hadn’t met for some time as she said she was busy, when she walked closer to me, I was stunned by her beauty as if it was our first meeting. She had always said she felt like home when she was with me, and that was the sweetest thing I had ever heard from her.

She noticed I kept looking at her and she returned my stare. Her eyes had always been my favorite. With perfect blue, the radiance shone would trigger the envy of the summer sky. She blinked and the beauty was momentarily covered by the shield of her eyelashes. Like a maze, I couldn’t help but get lost in them.

“Are you crazy? Can you just stop…”

“Being crazy in love? Of course not.”

She rolled her eyes and gave me that disgusted look. The ocean will always rise to embrace the moon; there was nothing more magical than our love, it constantly bloomed and grew without a sign.

We continued walking until we saw the river bank. It lied across the land in smooth seductive curves. Everything was just so calm here and I had my eyes steady on the rhythmic percussion of the gentle waves. I let my limbs feel loose and sat down on the lush grass. Even her breathing was an art. As she inhaled and exhaled the fresh clean air, it raised and fell with the sedative quality of a lullaby.

I pulled her down and wrapped her in my warm swaddle of chest and arms. I fitted so perfectly into her like we were meant to be together. She looked deeply into the river, like a statue made during the Renaissance. I wondered what she was thinking; she didn’t talk as much as she did before. Somehow there was something different today, but I didn’t know what it was.

39

I held her tighter to make sure she stayed still in me. I combed her hair as usual and whenever I made a slight move of it, that fragrant smell would slowly slip out. I looked to see if she felt comfortable. Her face never lied. Instead, I could see the sorrow in her.

“What’s wrong? Hey, answer me.” She avoided my stare and stayed quiet, keeping her lips shut. I kept shaking her but she remained the same. Her eyes were lifeless and dull. I was desperate. I felt fear come upon me. My arms had gone weak, stomach gone lurching and heart gone aching.

The last time she looked that expressionless, was the time when she had learnt she was terribly ill. Terribly ill. All the people around her were sad, but she remained quiet all the time. She didn’t like people feeling pity or sorry for her. She had always tried to show the world she was the strong one, and she hated people offering her a hand. But I had always known, deep down inside her, she was in an emotional mix. How could a young and sweet girl bear such news? The answer was clear after one month.

“Don’t be afraid. You are not alone, for I’m with you.” I held her tighter and hid my tears. I wondered how biology could explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you wanted is to be very sure that your soulmate is fine. She had been suffering a lot, and I was the only one that could protect her. I knew I shouldn’t have acted terrified, or it would have just made the situation worse.

The fiery, golden orbs slowly sunk below the horizon, painting the sky shades of red and pink. I pulled her up and it was effortless. She was so light. “It’s getting dark now.

It’s time to go home,” I whispered in her ears.

“It’s time to go home.”

Him

40

A Lost Song Above me, the stars align; Unlike us, each other, we can never find.

Above me, the moon sings; Unlike us, a lost song in spring.

The silly lullabies we chanted; The little stories we uttered; ‘Tis a trip down the memory lane; My mind, just like that, is chained.

Once upon a time, You were my favourite song, Enjoying the spring-time chorus, Of our nature, explore.

Like sprouts, together, We bud and grow; Like a meandering river, We conquer and flow.

Heavy and grounded, my heart, at first; With all the late-night tales we versed, It gently fluttered, like a summer butterfly; And, into the yonder, it lightly waltzes and flies.

Time flies, and rears its ugly head; I run out of tunes; And sadly, so do you.

I am no longer the harmony, To your heart’s darling melody.

We had walked this walk; Where, naively, I thought our hearts had crossed; But no, This duet is now one person short.

Like a violin with severed strings; Or a piano with broken chords that sing; Only one is dancing in our pas de deux, No more holding hands and hushing those sweet words.

Never have I thought, Your hand could be cold as winter snow; When my scarred palms let it go; Standing still – the hands on my clock, While swiftly, you moved on, Before summer’s even gone.

The waves whisper; Like my secret’s keeper.

The ocean breathes; Like a thread, pulling me beneath.

Enveloped by the winter breeze, Embraced by the heart on my sleeves, Twirling and swirling down I go, To where that lost song belongs, and too, my soul.

Crystal Chan Tin Kwan 41

Fragments from a Revisit of Stories Unfinished Momochi 1.

The shore and the horizon had never been more parallel. The beach was sparsely occupied on that breezy Sunday afternoon. Families had beach balls and sand buckets.

Couples had each other. I was drawn to the citric fragrance of her hair and the visually imposing Seahawk Hotel at the east end of the beach. I was looking that way when I said I wanted to take that capsule elevator up to the top floor. She pushed her forehead into my shoulder. She was afraid of glass elevators. I didn’t know why I said what I said.

The beach ball reached the top of the arc when she got up and started heading towards the water, dragging her feet across the sand. She turned and stared at me as I got up.

‘Stop following’ was what her gesture seemed to say, but she really meant the opposite and I knew our game was on.

It went like this. If I lunged at her, she’d back off. If I cut one way, she’d flinch the other.

There we were, no more than five steps apart, sizing each other up around an invisible circle. I could make a straight dash at her and we’d end up rolling on the sand. But it was just as likely I’d end up with hands on my knees, and she’d be somewhere halfway between me and the Seahawk, basking in the radiance of her bright pink zip-up, doing jumping jacks.

‘Let’s get coffee now,’ I said, raising my voice a bit so she could hear me from a distance. She shook her head. I wasn’t sure if she heard.

I started walking towards the deck where the shops and restaurants were. I didn’t need eyes on my back to know she was following, five steps or so behind me, possibly on her toes in case I ever felt compelled to turn and grab her. Others might have thought we were filming. I only wanted a decent table. ‘Yes, she’s my girlfriend,’ I wanted to tell my fellow weekenders. ‘We’ve been going out for ten weeks. Still early. I know.’

I picked a small round table on the patio facing the west end of the beach where a reddish purple sunset was cooking. I needed a moment to stop counting time, to cross the bridge over a little box that was sliding underneath and away from me now, along the stream and towards the edge of the horizon.

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2.

There was that second weekend since we started going out. We actually stayed indoors at her place on a muggy afternoon, snacks on the tatami floor, curtains down. We rented a nonsensical film about basketball stars joining cartoon characters to fight aliens. I had tickets to the baseball game that night. The plan was to head to the Dome right after the movie. When the credits rolled, she rolled as well, on the floor.

‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘We need to catch the bus.’

Her back was glued to the floor and her arms invited me to pull her up. I tried, but she didn’t get up. I let go and she took it as permission to fall into a coma. I shook her. She screamed. ‘Go away. Leave me alone.’

I stepped out of the apartment, got as far as the first landing of the staircase. I stood there looking at the adjacent building that was identical to the one I was in. A parking area separated us. Jordan passed behind the back to Bugs, then to Barkley, then to Bird.

It wasn’t all that funny but she laughed all the way through. ‘What if she had laughed to her death,’ I thought, and started to worry if something really were to happen to her while I was standing outside. So I went back.

The following weekend she took me to the Dome. She didn’t even tell me she had tickets. She just showed up in an oversized Hawks jersey that covered her shorts.

Johjima cracked a three-run homer to tie the game in the ninth. As he rounded the bases, she whispered something into my ear. ‘I like being with you,’ was the part I heard most clearly. The stadium was loud at that moment.

The next inning the visitors scored on a wild pitch and the Hawks lost 5-4. After the game, we ditched the crowd and went for a walk. A row of tall white lamps lit the pavement that lead straight towards the Tower. The beach was dark but we heard the waves.

3.

It turned out the sunset was more deep orange than reddish purple. Seaside Momochi was now our tenth weekend. The previous weekend was Ohori Park with swan boats in the pond. Before that, Kashii Kaen and the rainy Ferris wheel, a golf cart mishap at Koi no Ura, a ferry ride to Umi no Nakamichi when her Hawks cap was lifted by the wind and was bobbing in the water.

‘How long have you been sitting there?’ I asked, when I saw her sitting at the table next to mine.

‘As long as you have,’ she said. ‘You never bothered to look.’

Then she came to sit next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched. It was the last hour of daylight to what was another unpredictable Sunday. I forgot how long we had sat there without saying a word. I also lost record of what we did in the weeks that followed. A lot of that got pushed out of my memory. Then, there was the seventeenth weekend when we broke up.

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Hawks When Yurisbel Graciel went opposite field in the fifth, I took a photo of him rounding the bases while the words ‘Home Run’ flashed on the big screen. I wasn’t sure if I should have reached out to you. But you’d be glad to know the Hawks won. They were up 2-0 when Mori started the top of the ninth by throwing five straight pitches that missed the plate. The visitors had man on second and third with one out. The Hawks got Tsuruoka to ground to second. Takata threw to first, and it was over.

Summer of ’98 was the last time I came to a game with you. The Hawks had a different sponsor then and wore orange. Ichiro was here for the visiting Blue Waves. He had since gotten three thousand hits in America. Yes. For me, ball games held memories like jackets in a closet.

Like I said, the Hawks won, and fans were able to leave on a high. Smoke from the victory fireworks had to be dispersed, so I got to see, for the first time, the opening of the roof. I was ten rows behind home plate. No one rushed me out, so I stayed the same way I’d stay to see the credits at the end of a film.

It occurred to me that the section of the roof above the big screen had a pair of sliding panels. One moved to the left, the other to the right. You wouldn’t notice their movement unless you were staring like I was. The space in the middle, when the panels were furthest apart, revealed the upper floors of the hotel next door and a hazy night sky. What used to be the Seahawk was now under Hilton. The sign in the top right corner of the building was a glowing white blur. Then it was gone. The roof was closing. The panels were moving towards each other way more slowly than when they were moving apart. There I was, admiring this non-spectacle and my so-called window of opportunity.

I lingered for a bit even after the roof closed. I felt my feet firmly on the ground each step I took away from my seat while the staff went around to pick up garbage. There was this young couple, dressed in full gear, walking ahead of me, holding hands. She had ‘51 Uebayashi’ on her back. He had ‘9 Yanagita’. They each had a towel around the neck.

She pointed to one of the seats in the lower section where a flag was left behind. The flags were promotion items given out before the game. He was holding a bundle in his hand, while his girlfriend started down the aisle, and was about to collect another.

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Random Scenes 1.

My bench overlooks the pond and its many swans. How these peddle boats are given the appearance of big white swans reflects the romance of the people in this city. Each time a pair of swans moved towards each other and into my field of vision - say one drifting from the left, the other from the right - the moment their beaks are about to touch and the curve of their necks make a heart shape, a split-second heart. Swans that overlap closer to each other make a more perfect heart. I take a few photos, then put my phone away, and just watch them for what they are. When kids wave to me, I wave back.

Straight ahead behind the buildings is the top of the Fukuoka Tower. A young man of high school age is handing out pamphlets, inviting people to join a lunch-and-movie event at Maizuru Park nearby. I’m ready to be asked and I’d put the pamphlet into my plastic folder, along with other printed momentos: A poster of the Tenjin Coffee Festival, a guide map of Kurume, a Family Mart receipt, an invite to be member at Joyfull, etceteras, etceteras.

2.

It was dark, except for the bit of daylight that seeped in through the windows. The black curtains failed to cover them completely. The people there were very creative.

They turned the room into a moody nightclub, at least it was decorated as such. I forgot how I got there. I didn’t even know you’d be there, and that we’d be the only ones in the room.

A floor lamp put shades over the wall and the vinyls and the cardboard juke box replica. A song could be requested for one hundred yen, as written in neon green on a sign next to a purple lava lamp. I thought I saw you behind the black silk curtains, or the contour of a person that looked like you. You were standing in the back end of the room behind the counter, next to the stereo system and a pile of CDs. They made you a DJ and that was your booth.

The image of a vacant highway was mentioned in a song from that movie with Winona Ryder. The day you said you didn’t want to be together anymore, I sat in front of my desk staring at a pile of old CDs from a local rental. That was the song that kept looping.

45

There was that scene when she came home and saw that her love had left. The camera closed in on her face. She didn’t know what to do. Then she turned and ran out the door.

The next scene she was smoking at a table that was far from the stage at a live house.

She thought she saw him at the door but she was mistaken. The song then spiraled into a melancholic instrumental, ending with what sounded like shards of glass being stepped on.

There was another scene of you staring at the red level bars on the stereo system and me holding a CD case. Track 7 permeated the room. No one else came in. The people there were very creative, and quite possibly busy, creating other scenes for other unfinished stories.

3.

Though you said you’d meet me in the dorm I decided I couldn’t just wait, so I thought I’d meet you on the street halfway as you start walking here from school or I’d run so fast I’d be the one standing outside the school waiting. It had to be that way, if it was indeed a first date. I couldn’t have been so passive to wait for you to pick me up. So I put on my runners, bounced on my feet, and stormed out the gate. Yes, it was your exam year. You had to stay late in school. I knew that. Were you able to focus? I wasn’t.

I couldn’t have. The only thing on my mind was meeting you, and I was flying, past the apartments, through the corner parking lot, beneath the railway bridge, down the straight and into the school campus. I didn’t care. Baseball practice. I didn’t care.

Classmates in uniform. I didn’t care. Love, they said, was all music, all people, looping, in my head. I didn’t care. I got to the entrance of the school just as you and your best friend came out. She gave you a look, as if to say, ‘Enjoy your date.’ Your glasses met the late afternoon sun. I was catching my breath.

I wanted to pause. I wanted to know what brought us here and what you were studying and why I ran so fast and how I could survive this city and this year and tonight and what kept me coming back and what it was about you I liked and about me you liked and whether we’d ever meet again and whether I’d find myself and whether we’d ever find each other and at what point on this infinite timeline and what the meaning would be if we were indeed to meet again. I had a few places in mind, depending on what you felt like having. You said Italian. I said I knew it, though I really didn’t.

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Canal There’s no green light on the other side of the river, only a streak of blue beaming off the rooftop of the Hotel & Max and into the sky like a clothesline, more vivid now that it’s late night and the more imposing billboards have gone to sleep. What sounds like drunken laughter coming from across the waters appears to be some sort of pole dancing, over there, in that ground floor unit of that building labeled 5th Hotel East.

The building next to that, right there, behind that window on the fourth floor, shadows of party people stretch onto the ceiling, flickering. In another room, a TV on the wall has purple writing moving across the screen. Then there’s the river, shimmering, metallic. I’m leaning over, looking straight down. It’s dark from this angle. Bottomless.

It’s not about them. The lights and the distant clamor only add a certain poignancy to our meeting, don’t you think?

The river agrees.

Someone here is waiting for me, I tell him. Is there a creative way to find this person, or do I have to drop everything and move here?

Well, you see, over there is where people meet people, he says. And over there is where people meet people as well, and even over there, that man on the bridge singing ‘Melody’, he too will meet people who may not know him but would recognize the song. How will you, with pen and paper, strike resonance with even one person on the streets?

Right. And if I lean over some more, I’d fall into the water while tourists on a boat take out their phones. The darkness of the water in extreme close-up makes the opened eyes feel closed.

That story you wrote twenty years ago, he says, referring to my first serious attempt at fiction. It was set in this place, wasn’t it?

Yes it was.

So it’s my writing that brings me back, I wonder out loud, and back away from the railing a bit. The river returns to the way it always is this time of night, a canvas of jittery silvers and blues. Slightly forward, drifting back, is what I hear. I know that line. It’s been on my mind for a while now. Ceaselessly, like the sound of a desperate, invisible hand caressing the surface of the water. Ceaselessly. **Drafted 2018. 9. 22, outside Canal City

Atom Cheung 47

A Two Hour Recall to Past Days 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Sitting in a café located in Sai Wan, I clicked the “play” button on the screen unconsciously. The voice of Seungri came from the headphones, whispering into my ear. He is a K-pop star in a popular band. Five members in the band were in a recording show for a fan meeting, cracking jokes to amuse their audience. After taking the brief introduction in turns, the five members exchanged good-natured banter with each other.

My video-watching was interrupted by a phone call from one of my school mates.

“Dear, you know what? Jiang will come to Hong Kong for her birthday party next Tuesday. She told me to invite you. Really hope to meet you soon!”

I paused the video. Staring at the smile on Seungri’s face, I suddenly remembered that this was the 17th year I had known Jiang.

I met Jiang in primary school. She was a tall and slim girl. I heard from other students that she was two years older than most of the students in the class, which was why she was much more mature, charming and intelligent. These good traits made her stand out in class, and she was thus delegated as our monitor. On the contrary, I was a totally different character from her. Since I enrolled in school one year ahead of schedule, I was shorter and smaller than most of my fellow classmates. I was afraid of being isolated by others at that time, so I tried to approach Jiang. I thought students like her were likely to be popular with teenagers. I thought, if I could befriend her, then I would also be more popular among my peers. It was a perfect plan which lasted for a long time until one day in the 3rd year of primary school.

The midterm exam results came out that day. I achieved top grades. And my nightmares began.

Jiang was ranked highest in the class before I overtook her. Though I felt sorry, I did not know what to do to console her.

The next afternoon, she pulled me into the restroom. There was also a small group of girls who followed her. I was still reacting as to why she pulled me out of the classroom when she pushed me against the wall.

“Are you always acting as a good little girl in front of teachers and your parents?

You’ve never sworn before? Look at how special you are!” said Jiang in a piercing voice.

Teenagers tend to use vulgar words to show their limited understanding of this socalled ugly world. A little naïve, a little childish, but this behavior was more like a display of their power and authority among fellows.

But I really lost my mind that time. “What could I do?”

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“I can be your teacher,” Jiang spoke slowly, “just say ‘fxxk it’, then you can leave.”

That was too ridiculous. I wanted to leave directly, but all the girls gathered together, holding me back. I had never said such bad words before, but that day, I had no choice but to follow their instructions. I could not even remember far more details in that moment. Then, the words “Li spoke dirty words” spread like wildfire to the whole class.

From then on, school became a torturous place for me. Every day I gazed through the green transparent window on Bus No.255, wondering whether I would be forced to say such inconceivable words the next day. Being a little kid, I vowed to achieve success in the future all the time. I chose not to tell my parents about that terrible experience due to my independence.

I changed my pose on the chair and continued watching the video. In the next segment, I found some of Seungri’s teammates mocking him. This was all kind-spirited humor, but it made my heart ache for a while. I felt a kind of sorrow for a stranger. It was out of expectation, but it was within understanding.

The word “loneliness” was a motif throughout my primary school life. Getting excellent grades was definitely a priority at that time; therefore, I went to great lengths to have a low profile in other aspects of school life. I chose to stand alone when other students played with each other. However, they would still sometimes talk to me in an ironic way. Maybe some of them did not mean to do this, but Jiang was their leader.

Many years have passed by, and the deep scar in my soul seems to have healed. The only side-effect is that I could not easily trust another person. It is difficult to judge if my discretion is good or not. I can get rid of lots of traps and troubles. Once I came to a cram school and asked to check the teachers’ transcripts before I submitted the tuition fees for IELTS tutorial. I doubted strangers’ professional ability for no reason. But this habit brought me suffering in return. I tend to tell some meaningless lies in daily life. I always put others’ feelings on top of mine. Before I give my answers to the questions, I will consider whether my answer could make other people satisfied.

I looked back to the screen. It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon; the video was drawing to an end. Seungri looked gently at his teammates whilst explaining something to them, with a patient and soft smile on his face. The scene looked warm and comfortable.

The outgoing boy experienced no emotional disturbance and performed wonderfully throughout the show. His humorous words amused the audience and even his teammates.

I logged out of the player, sent a message to my school mate in primary school, and expressed my true attitude to refuse her invitation. This time, I said “no” directly to the things I dislike.

Leaving the café, I found the air in Hong Kong fresh. Everything is getting better. Time is the cure. Love is the cure. And Hong Kong is the cure.

Li Yushan 49

Spade of Fallen Leaves See the fallen leaves collected in the spade Like Prévert has said it Memories and regrets, both degrade I’m here to remind you, I’m going away This might well be the last time You recall that day The sun’s brighter yesterday, you surely know But do you remember when The world’s younger than today, and tomorrow?

The last September night and the dirges Distant like Constantinople Would simply fail to re-emerge You’ve been awaited for, by that lily pond By someone who loved your name O’er the science building was the moon ever yond A pool of crimson flames in cremation Of never-ending repentance As a sort of love’s salutation See the memories in the haze quickly fading Like Gainsbourg has said Tears or sobs wouldn’t change anything I’m here to remind you, I’m going away This is to be the last time You recall that day.

Whirlpool of Memories The vinyl record’s cracking, As I find myself spinning around, Down a stream that’s swirling, Or in the last train seaward bound.

The record plays in reverse, Though the flow neglects its opinion.

With the end of the verse, I see the grand ocean of oblivion.

There must be a reason, Why memories catch us like birdlime.

And should all our seasons, Come and go without certain times, Then winter’s made a treason, For having taken the leaves for a ride.

In their place, in thousands, Should’ve been blossoms that aren’t so dry.

And in the whirlpool of memories, They go by though I cannot see.

Then let me drown in the sea, Of leaves or of departing pleas.

Both by Justin Y Vaughan 50

That Photo on your Coffee In Eternal Lines Table to Time Memories I call them.

Lost to be found, yet found to be lost.

Painted by a long gone hermit - Time whose trace is never caught.

Coffee stains on a Polaroid film, like light flares in a theatric dream.

Dosed like dove couples, swaying in silence.

My eyes have lost focus, I’m somewhere elsethey shine on you, my crazy diamond.

Relive with me those moments of us, tinted.

The power of vision has left me speechless.

I’m mesmerized by the fooling of Time Overlapping past and present, like a pleasurable crime.

How I wish you were here to hold my palen hands.

Though our bodies are apart, I am still your Mesdames But whatever shall be I promise to hold this memory dearly, inside the bottom of my soul, till the very end of life till the day I lose control.

Louise Leung

If the dreaded lash of Time, Should rip these memories from our minds, should cast our corporal shells aside, should rid us of our mortal lives.

Should stars strung across the sky above too decide we’ve lived enough; Should Death itself eventually must come between our timeless love When time is done with us I will, speak of this with faith renewed: I know this now, I’ll know it still, It makes me glad that I’m with you.

Though we all count our numbered years this transience we need not fear, worry not, ‘cause even time won’t dare dispel our memories, dear.’

And even when our lives have both given all they have to give; In eternal lines to time we’ll live.

In eternal lines to time, we’ll live.

Felix Chow 51

Recommendations Books Book: The Phantom Tollbooth Author: Norton Juster Recommended by: Christy A book that strongly evokes a sense of memory for me definitely has to be “The Phantom Tollbooth” by Norton Juster. Why? Well firstly it’s because I read this when I was a child so it brings me many fond memories, but also because every element in this fantasy novel screams “CHILDHOOD!” to its readers.

Juster utilizes the main character, Milo, to create a story to which many youngsters can probably relate to. The crazy, unusual aspects of this book will throw you back to those carefree childhood days as this whimsical tale whisks you to different fantasy realms in the Kingdom of Wisdom. The tales Juster thought of seem to have originated from a child’s imagination. Although this fantasy adventure novel may be directed at a younger demographic, it certainly allows older readers to reminisce and feel nostalgic. It is a huge #throwbackthursday to those kiddie days when you let your imagination roam free.

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Book: My Name is Memory Author: Ann Brashares Recommended by: Shania

This book, written by Ann Brashares, who also penned “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants”, greatly inspired my interest in science-fiction and romance novels.

The main character Daniel has the supernatural ability to retain memories from his past lives and he can recognize the souls of those he knows.

Throughout all his lives that were detailed in the book, he meets the same girl, the love of his life (or “lives”), Sophia, repeatedly. He seeks her from across the world and falls in love again and again, but in different decades, across lifetimes with different identities and backgrounds. Yet, they are unfortunately torn apart by destiny in each instance.

The book leaves readers with a satisfying feeling, and the process through which they find each other again no matter what is romantic, beautifully written and captivating. It is as if we are reading multiple stories at once, because of the different timelines Daniel and Sophia’s new lives present. I highly recommend this to all those who are interested in timetravel and romance, contemporary or not.

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Songs

Song: If I Could Confide in You Artist: Miriam Yeung Recommended by: Clement We all have a favorite song and this is mine. There are emotional moments in which songwriters really excel. This song means a lot to me, because it not only reminds me of someone, but also plays a significant part in my life. Whenever I am depressed, I listen to it and I will soon get lost in my memories. The song, lyricised by Albert Leung, a famous songwriter who also ingeniously penned many songs, depicts a devoted protagonist who has been contributing or even sacrificing everything for her friend’s care, to no avail. During a stormy night, she called her friend and asked for her friend’s company to get through the storms, but was rejected.

The songs tells us that when something is one-sided, we will never succeed, however dedicated we are. I was taught to be pragmatic and deal with relationships wisely. However, this song somehow conjures up many haunting memories and evokes a sense of grief to which I can easily relate,.

For unfathomable reasons, I find it so cathartic.

Song: Photograph Artist: Nickelback Recommended by: John I know, I know, it’s Nickelback, but what can I say, the song’s a banger. The song is about a person who reminisces over memories of his youth through looking at a photograph. It revolves around the nostalgia we experience when we reflect upon the things we’d done in life: Bidding farewell to good friends, doing stupid stuff at school, having your first crush, etc. Lyrically, the song has a very literal sense, because most of the things described in the song, were actually what Chad Kroeger did as a kid; hence making it more relatable. I highly recommend this song.

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Movies/Show Movie Series: Harry Potter Recommended by: Rachel

I remember every line and every spell. I even studied tarot to inch myself closer to the world of magic. Still, I have not received a letter from Hogwarts, the one which will inform me that I am actually a witch who is going to start a new life in Hogwarts. How excited I would be if that really came true! I would be able to fly with a Nimbus 2000 and turn my annoying classmates into teacups. The most important thing is that I would not need to do my laundry anymore because of magic!

Time flies and I am not a child anymore. I understand the storyline more after reading it again and again. In the end, I have given up waiting for that letter. We all need some fantasy in life, and growing up means saying goodbye to some of them.

TV Series: Constantine Recommended by: Elijah John Constantine is a detective who specializes in solving supernatural cases. He is a magician who can perform different spells, allowing him to channel the dead and carry out exorcisms. He helps a lot of people using magic.

His whole career started with an accident. He was once experimenting with dangerous magic, but something went wrong. He summoned a demon who could not be banished. Eventually, he could do nothing but let it take his friend away. Since then, he has tried his best to save people from supernatural evils while trying to find a way to save his friend from the demon.

Memories make us remember what we have done wrong, give us motivation to right our wrongs and drive us to become a better person. They remind us, like an alarm, of what it is about ourselves we are ashamed of. We can only learn from the past and move on.

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