十七 SEVENTEEN
S C R I B B L E S
寫 意
不可避免 INEVITABLE
INEVITABLE noun
1. An unavoidable situation adjective
1. Inescapable ; unpreventable
Photography By Lara Carolan
ISSUE 17
Made possible by the English Department and the Publication Suite
operations Director phyllis Lam '20
Layout Director Stephanie yu '20
Art Director Bertha Ho '20 English Writing Director Nicole chen '20
Chinese Writing Director Christy tang '20
THE TEAM WRITERS
LAYOUT Wee Lee Tan Nicole Xiang Bertha Ho Lara Carolan Sanya Hui Malin Leven Hannah Wong Jocelyn Kwok Rachel Yeam
Michelle Qiu Catarina Correa Shivahn Garvie Katie Chiu Remko Kuijis Jocelyn Cheng Alicia Tang Jennifer Zhang Gabriella Au Alysa Wong Elizabeth Yee Adele Li Angelina Wang Jonathan Wu Ethan Lau Rita Chun Christy Tang Elaine Hua Wang On Yuen
ARTISTS + PHOTOGRAPHERS Jade Emsley Hope Patterson Jasmine Wong Colin Huang Lara Carolan Alicia Zhang Miriam Chasnov Caterina Jacobelli Kalysha Wong Cindy Lim Rachael Lee Susan Lee Stephanie Kung Stephanie Yu Tania Lau
A LETTER
FROM THE ED BOARD Dear CIS, Sometimes in an environment like high school we can feel suffocated. We can feel like everything’s happening at once, like there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. Every single day, every single month, the same school day on repeat, a buildup of stress again and again. Our theme for issue 17 gives a name to this familiar sensation ‘inevitable’. We have given our writers and artists a chance to uncover the uncontrollable experiences in their life, expressing them through colour and words. Through Inevitable, we hope students can present to you a gallery of vivid experiences, inner thoughts, and discover the truths of being under the inescapable constant pressure throughout the school year. Love, The Scribbles Team
親愛的漢基： 無論是在生活上遇到了棘手事還是在學業上 碰見了大難題，令我們昏頭轉向的壓力無時 無刻不在充斥著我們的日常，排山倒海一般 向我們湧來。然而在仰天長嘯之後，即使深 感無奈不滿，我們總還是得沉下心來，繼續 面對。而在第十七期刊“不可避免”中，我們 《寫意》的團隊抓取了來自平凡生活中的靈 感，將鏡頭轉向了我們每個人都在經歷的壓 力，敏捷地捕捉到了一個個無法避免也不可 逃避的必然時刻。 在“不可避免”中，我們希望我們所呈現的內 容可以向讀者真實形象地展示在大千世界中 作為一個青少年所承擔的憂慮和煩惱。在瀏 覽整本雜誌的同時，我們也希望讀者能在心 中種下一顆種子，讓它與你一起成長：當你 意識到原來壓力是不可逃避且我們得欣然接 受時，你的種子也就破開了外殼，開始向成 熟的花朵邁進。 《寫意》編輯組
Contents Acceptance Vertigo Coda Aging of Aquarius Unstoppable Her. Inevitable Fate Inevitable (1) It Comes and Goes Truth Nothing In Life Is Inevitable Unfair a rose, a thorn Inevitable (2) 生命的農夫 A Letter To You Inevitable (3) 馬拉松 Surrogates 高中 Music Playlist
Acceptance The Warm Embrace of Pain. by Alicia Tang (09Y2)
It was my sense of escape. Netball, like an ocean to a dolphin, it was my happy place. However, my happy place was robbed from me. This year I have achieved all I wanted, to myself. I could not hate, I will not hate. If I found a way to it, hate will slowly consume what I once found safe. I could not blame either, I will not blame. Though I feel as if it will for a brief time, lift my sorrows. My mind was constantly trying to piece together my future, but so far, I am still lost. I started crying, sitting on the snow, my skis dangling from my feet. I could feel the cold of the ice grasping onto my palms. Frigid, at anyone's standards. I feared not to move. I have skied down these mountains, easily due to my strong physical abilities. My skis paralleled, my hips tensed and I effortlessly made a large turn, my poles digging into the snow securing my move. It was the first fall, first of the season that completely torn my ACL. I would have never thought one fall could end it all. The pain was not agonizing, the thought of it was.
My heart was a piece of paper, light. Yet it had creases. My dreams shattered before my eyes. Actually, shattered with the background of emerging white fog. The trees stood tall, as the branches seemed to widen shadowing my small figure. I heard a brittle moan , my vocal chords vibrated. My mind went blank, almost. Only one word floated above all the sudden commotion. It was too much for my mind to contemplate. Too much going on. All overwhelming. After the fall, I was immediately rushed to the hospital. I did not think one foul move could have cost me this much, it was too much to bear. The promise of hope I betrayed. The doctor examined my MRI. Two years. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Time was consuming my future. I started crying, tears seeping through the cracks of my hand. They would not stop. The drops were in the shape of immeasurable pain, like the substance inside a timer slowly running down my numbed cheeks.
Miriam Chasnov (12P2)
My heart was a piece of paper, light. Yet it had creases and crumples. It was as if one second could cost you all your hard work. I deny the word Karma, I deny the existence of the word. What if it was the cause of all these accidents? It was the question that constantly echoed through my hollowness. Nothing I have ever done could justify this “karma� I am receiving. I looked in the mirror, I was finally who I wanted to be. But the mirror had to shatter. It shattered along with my dreams, my passion, my goals. Each day I wake up to a leg, broken, torn. Yet there was nothing I could do. My heart was a piece of paper, light. Yet it had creases, crumples, and tears. At the times when I grasp onto the fact that my ligament is torn, completely, it stings. Gradually I taught myself to let it go, let it take over even. It started to sink in. It slows my breathing, allows me to enter the verge of happiness, the tip before I fall into spirals of misery. Acceptance comforts me, allowing me to believe I will be okay.
I look beyond the months and see myself after the operation. I see myself holding onto crutches to stabilize my steps. I look beyond the years and see the light scars of the stitches, gently sewn on to close the wound of the surgery. It was an everlasting mark, a scar to remind me of this period I have gone through, to remind me happiness comes from acceptance. Time swallowed my future, all I could do now is wait, accept, adjust. To accept the present of the present. Tick Tock Tick Tock. I did my all to still be part of the netball team. I started coaching the primary students, hoping to inspire. I started assistant coaching the netball team I was originally in, hoping to improve. Still, my heart aches when I watch my team pivot their way to the goal. Netball was no longer a relief, it created a cold sting eating up the courage left in me. An unhealthy feeling draining my happiness as I watch my teammates pass the ball consecutively down the court. It is still hard, I look beyond, onto a journey of grief and sorrow. But I know, deep down that Happiness comes from Acceptance.
Lara Carolan (12R1)
V
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It burns my fingertips. The flame, but also the light attached. Agony— loving is pure agony. Sharp memories pierce the mind Like the daggers that were spoken to his mother. Dirty smoke creeps down the ceiling— Ghosts. Not of the past, but of the future. I fear the future, the suffocation Of not knowing, of blissful ignorance. Half-closed eyelids, heavy from sleep, Merge into thoughtless murmurs that soothe the pain, the pain; rock me forth and back. Your very skin cries ruby tears. Yet while gems are priceless, these are cheap And mined from thoughts of infliction. Metal falls, tinkling loud In the presence of turmoil— the thin sliver of Space that keeps brine and freshwater apart. You are that hateful space which divides, The agony that is so wretched, Yet so tranquil, and purifying, and real. Like the ocean’s tide influx, Like the moon that disappears and returns, This thing that is inevitable is not love, but The dizzying fear and euphoria of looking Down from a great height, or rather— The temptation and indelible desire to fall.
CODA coda
By Jennifer Zhang (12P1) Photography by Lara Carolan (12R1)
Our bodies grow heavier when we get older, the heave in our chests soak up rainwater like sponges left unwashed in the kitchen sink, sun-dried but wasting away from the center. Sadness digging its way out using nothing but bare hands. Sadness curling in after the buttons mangle with cloth. Our swelling is nothing but a reminder. Ripe fruit attracting flies with rotund bellies hatching eggs into the core. And so we grow, carrying mouthfuls of outdated remedies, melancholy being the only thing that tethers us to the pavement, instead of gravity.
a
Aging of Aquar Shivahn-Garvie (12G1)
The salted pig, Held my cheek with his skin. To obliterate the infant’s grav marinade of romance upon
The violet banyan tree; ebodies the pact I forged w I was proportional to you so leave, you veiny mast
Velcro swallows my knu Behold—the rainbow Turn on the tsunami, A thing of mass rem
The ruby mirror ho and A ghost. The lime embed
Lacerate the b Put back the the yolk flak Aged but c
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n. rave, to blend the on the flaccid brick.
ed with your serpent. you masterpiece.
knuckles. ow room of happy. mi, remark. howls between my joints
bedded in my tendon tingles still.
he banana leaf of velvet fabric, the dimples in her cheeks. flakes from my desert skin. ut cannot sleep.
Colin Huang (13B2)
Unstoppable By Ethan lau (11R1)
am C
Miri
12P2)
ov ( n s a h
There are now only a few things that man has not conquered. First we domesticated fire, mastering the elements of nature. When man decided there was more to explore, we tamed the waves of the ocean. Traveling distances and lengths in all directions. Upon the discovery of new lands, also came the finding of new species. Creatures man has never laid eyes on. Monsters larger than the mighty elephants, Animals faster than the swift lions, Birds in more varieties than could be imagined. We slew them, one species, one kind, one breed at a time. Hung their heads on our walls, served them on a plate. Man was unstoppable, as we master, conquered, tamed anything and everything. But no matter how many planets we claim. Advancements in science and medicine we make. One entity remains untouched and unscathed. The explorer that found galaxies, the warriors that massacred races, the scientist that created elements.
Feeling like an unstoppable force, man and times paths were bound, a like star-crossed lovers we clashed. The victor, the true immovable object, the inevitable outcome, had man down, laying, defeated. Old age, disease, wound, Time does it all, and when your time comes, a smile will cross its face. We, the superior kind, could only watch as, a second, a minute, an hour, would go by, careless of the world, careless of you. Not our nuclear warheads, billions of dollars and invaluable research could pause time for a fraction of a second. While we charge and stand strong against wars, disasters, and beasts, eventually overcoming them all. We conform and cower upon the confrontation of time, praying for more, hoping for less. Unstoppable, time is unstoppable, we are stoppable.
Her.
Gabriella Au (12R2) Taking a deep breath I step out of the shadows Locks of blond hair now greyed Her shine now dimmed to muted candlelight I look at him I stare back at her “Good morning honey.” I allow myself to submerge in her emerald green eyes Making contact with her deepest desire “Let go.” She breathes the words out Like the many times that same breath has called my name No “Let go” I feel her words push against my aching body First soft as a feather Then harder and harder Until my heart gives way I find myself lost without her emerald green eyes
Lara Carolan (12R1)
e t a F e l b a t i v e orrea (07B1) In by Catarina C
Jasmine wong (12Y2)
What is the inevitable? The inevitable is a source that nobody can control, nobody can manage, nobody can oversee.The inevitable is the inescapable, the unpreventable, the unstoppable. Have you ever wondered why destiny exists ? Destiny exists with no solid form, but it still plays an extremely important part in the world. Destiny is a force that controls what happens in the future and but is outside humankind’s control. Destiny is the inevitable. And that is what my story is about. God made the world , at least that is what the Christians assume. But that is not what the Greeks think. In their opinions heavens are ruled by the gods, and sometimes, just sometimes, the gods are quite evil. But how has that have to do with inevitable? Now, this is actually when my story begins: A long long time ago, there was a nymph named Calypso. The gods cast down the poor nymph Calypso to Oggia forever just because her father was the evil titan, Atlas. But that was what the Greeks presumed… Jasmine didn’t know what to think. She just remembered walking into her garden and then POOF! She was gone! Then, about five minutes later, she was falling through the sky and she had no idea where she was. She landed on a soft sand dune. Phew! No bones broken, just a twisted ankle. Thank goodness she was a Girl Scout! She scooted over to a pile of fallen trees and grabbed a fairly large palm leaf and then wrapped it around with a spare hair tie that she was wearing on her hand. ‘Pretty good.’ she thought. Just then, two strong hands lifted her up and said, ‘Come on, we need to hurry!’ Jasmine trailed behind her as they trekked through the sand and looked at all the things around her, it was sunset by now, her parents must be very worried. She wondered if following the woman was a good idea, “maybe it’s a trap,” she thought.’Oh, well, I’m here, anyway.’ The woman stopped walking and then turned to Jasmine and said,’ Hello. Welcome to Oggia. I am Calypso, daughter of Atlas.’ I gasped,’You mean the evil titan? She nodded. “ But it’s a myth! I learned that in my history class!” Calypso sighed. “And you… you are Calypso, the sorceress?” Calypso gave a little smile but then sighed.
Calypso suddenly turned serious. “We have to get out of here.” “Why?” Jasmine asked. Calypso took in a shaky breath and whispered,”Today’s the day.” “The day of what?” “Doomsday. The fates predicted I could leave the island on this day, but said that it would lead to a terrible fate that nobody, even the gods, cannot control. It is the inevitable.” “Then we have to hurry!” Jasmine exclaimed. Calypso whistled and magical servants came to her, giving her a duffel bag and two luggages. She said, “ I can give you some of my old clothes, and if you don’t mind, it’s a chiton.” “What’s a chiton?” “A greek dress.” “Oh.” She quickly changed and Calypso called for her magical raft. The raft immediately came zooming from the middle of the ocean. “Let’s go.” They jumped on the raft and zoomed out into the ocean. The sky was dark when Jasmine woke up, she didn’t even notice that she fell asleep.Just then, the sky rumbled, lightning flashed, their raft flooded with water. Jasmine frantically shook Calypso awake. Her eyes shot open. “No. This is not happening. All these millennia, and no trouble, and now, as I am just on the verge of freedom...” she muttered under her breath. Just then, waves crashed onto the boat, and Jasmine saw a distant shadow of an island. “If we can get to it, we might survive!” Jasmine shouted. Calypso nodded and shouted commands to the magical raft. The raft cut across the water and zoomed towards their destination. All was going just fine when the raft crashed onto the rocks and flung Calypso and Jasmine off the boat. “I can’t swim!” shouted Calypso. Jasmine could swim but wasn’t the strongest of swimmers. She frantically grabbed Calypso’s hand and tried dragging her behind her while she, herself tried to stay afloat. But just then, Calypso gasped and let her hand slip from Jasmine’s. Jasmine dove after her and tried to grab her hand again. But it was no use. Jasmine had to reluctantly swim ashore herself. Once on the island, Jasmine sighed and thought to herself, “Calypso. She’s a sorceress. She will survive.” And she repeated those words silently to herself but she couldn’t forget the image of Calypso’s hand slipping from hers and Calypso sinking into the endless expanse of the deep sea…
Caterina Jacobelli (12R1)
INEVITABLE
Alysa Wong (11B2)
inevitable is a spark, a flame is a golden orb of beauty staggering just out of reach, is my vision half blurred, palms shivering with the yearning to stoke those dancing flames and feel them writhe beneath my fingertips. the first lick of heat burnt. like the sharp metallic tang of blood or the sickening crunch of an arm going limp, but soothing as the lap of ocean waves, yet vicious as the thorn on a white rose. a single kiss enough to draw obsidian ichor. still i lay, mind restless and refusing to surrender to tranquility and all because this ghost of a whisper of your touch is wildfire-- is blazing a trail on this sliver of skin honing in the desire, the craving, and the need, the need for you to smother my very existence. until finally you found me. and crashed your searing lips onto mine. and let me into your fiery embrace. and i guess my mind starts working because it feels like slamming into a wall of agony and burning from the inside out with regret and dizziness and i want nothing else but to be thinking straight but then my skin starts to blister with the scorching heat and the intensity of your gaze and again i am lost. because inevitable is a spark, a flame is a golden orb of beauty staggering just out of reach.
It Comes and Goes Wang On Yuen (12P1) I feel a hammering on my body, diverting my gaze from the emptiness restricted to the not-so-distant distance to the street in front of me. A man with a stack of advertisements on his arm slops a dollop of watery glue over the inch-thick mound of flyers of all shapes, sizes, and hues of colour — often visible even to me through the back of the increasingly cheap paper they use — and casually flings another laminated sheet beside the first. The liquid trickles deftly along the crack between a handful of identical promotions for a Park n’ Shop sale, each slightly covering a corner or three of the others, the mindless fool who slapped them on last week like he wouldn’t be paid before dispensing his entire stock, which, knowing chain-stores — and having been one — probably was the case. No unusual sight though, fools. Plenty of them around, and always have been, since the first generation of hard-working businessmen gradually passed down the torch. The story of the cha chaan teng around the corner that opened in ‘67 comes to mind - first restaurant in the vicinity for a mile in all directions, opened by fat old Tam, who converted it from his textile store and house upstairs. The ads are still under there, in my ‘collection’, somewhere - $2.8 for a bowl of fishballs with ho fan it was. They flocked from all over the district to try the place out, both the customers and owners around. They say they made almost $4,500 in the first week. Then a couple of the small store owners across the street decided to be clever and clapped together, sold their shops, and opened their own place - big shopfront, big bold red characters, everything a hint more expensive; threw everything into it. Thought they’d do even better, thought they could somehow conjure even more customers with the same damned menu, on a street full of vendors and wholesalers all tighter than the belt around Tam’s waist. ‘Clever kid’ Chau from the newspaper
stall next to them used to laugh at them with his mug of milk tea as the owners waited for no one. Did they think they were in god-damned Central? I gaze over at Chau dozing on the table at his doorstep, feet and tea propped together on the table, white-haired head resting on his hands. He won the lottery sometime in the 70s and bought the building behind his newspaper stall, back when half a million bought you three floors and a small business crafting windows. He might as well be staying upstairs behind his own hand-made window-frames - he’d earn no less for it. Word is he’s taking down the newspaper stall, creaky wooden back-board, striped canvases and all. I chuckle to myself when people talk about how old it is, how they’re removing yet another old relic, another reminder of the old backdrop of the district. I still remember the day when they moved the post box, with its red paint and gold crown, down the opposite side of the road to hammer down the pegs for the newspaper stall’s legs, and how for the first few years the shop owners around would stop by to flick through magazines before walking off, until Chau moved into the store and his aunt moved from her fish stall in Wan Chai to take over the papers, barking away all their customers for daring to mess up her pristine layout. Beside the house now resides just one of heaven knows how many strange conglomerations around. Where the restaurant once stood is now a high-end Italian café — tall glass windows, young, hip customers — alongside a seemingly permanently empty modern art gallery; further along, a now-tenantless store still bearing a sign fittingly labelling itself ‘antique’; a tiny Chinese clinic, almost completely obscured by the crumbling remnants of the newspaper stall.
s A van rolls by the quiet early-morning road — as if it ever gets busy anymore — and stops directly across me, in front of the coffin store. A sullen, grim-faced, middle-aged man emerges from the store to greet the workmen who disembark and unload a wheelbarrow of tools and a ladder. As he turns back towards the open door, Cheng pauses to steal a wistful glance at the bare, unnamed store wall, rubbing his eye before retreating into his sombre den. The wall gazes mournfully across at me. It’s one of the older ones of us amongst a richly historic Wall Street, built not much later than me, and still a beauty in a collection of bland, plain structures, yellowing but magnificently even walls peeking through a simple yet delicate assortment of beige tiles dotted with the occasional brilliant blue. Old Cheng himself had sat for days at his work-table, crafting and etching the ornate sign for his store. It extended perpendicularly to the storefront in pride of place, audaciously kept directly on the milky green wall, as though in defiant rebellion to a particularly majestic contraption of advertising signs hanging from next to it over the hoods of the few cars which drove by. A uniquely clean and intricate artwork in the midst of a mile of desperate, garish rallies for attention from the endless stretch of endless competition, its muted rally was heeded by officials, businessmen, Cantonese opera singers, and once a judge - for decades the exclusive clients of Cheng’s elegant handmade coffins. The half-dozen clumsily assembled wooden boxes — screws and all visible to the world as though afraid passers-by would fail to notice — visible inside the otherwise bare store are a far cry from those masterpieces. With none of his children keen to inherit a thriving but nonetheless uncomfortable business, Cheng worked alone until he died last year. All buildings, let alone people, come and go, but having seen it all, there was still a chillingly morbid irony as the store, which lived off the death of others, that day provided its very last service to its very own owner before the stories of synonymous man and livelihood
ended quietly together. His oldest son had returned from Canada only to bleed what few pennies he could from leftover materials he’d simply drilled together — which, most surprisingly, totalled a very round sum indeed — and to complete the sale of the building. It’s as little a surprise as it is great a pity that the sign is in a dismal state. The rich wood has lost its shine in uneven patches, testament to such erudite cost-saving attempts as using concentrated bleach in place of wax. A deep slit splits the rounded surface in two, from which a sliver of dry, razor-sharp white bark curls away from the gnarled remains of fleshy, chipped wood, its shrunken structure hunched and full of painted, mouldy duct tape — yet another masterfully contemplated ‘renovation’ — stuffed back inside with careless abandon. Propped in front, a corrugated metal sheet lends its shade and roughly scrawled store name to the mangled mess below, smothered in crimson paint and warped downwards on the edges from decades of ardent resistance in its previous stint as the backing board of the air conditioner hanging by two of its four beams above. An ant scuttles onto the thick glaze of fiery, glaring red into view, the paint gleaming over the one side of the uneven surface of wood and metal together, sloping down from the peak of its thickness over each prickly pimple of clotted grime, ending abruptly without warning, a soft, plaster-like edge hanging limply off the edge. The ant slinks back behind the rubbery curtain. I almost feel a little sorry for the wall as he continues to stare back at me. An elderly couple stroll in front of my gaze and abruptly come to a stop, squinting directly at me. ‘Some grand “Urban Renewal Scheme” again. It’s just all going and going, isn’t it?’ The man shakes his head.
It Comes and Goes
It Comes and Goes I eoG dna semoC tI It Comes and Goes I oG dna semoC tI s t Comes and Goes It dna semoC tI seo Comes and Goes It C na semoC tI seoG d mes and Goes It Com moC tI seoG dna s nd Goes It Comes an tI seoG dna semoC es It Comes and Goe dna semoC tI omes and Goes oC tI d Goes Going?
‘This was where the supermarket was, wasn’t it? Where I used to get the pompano for dinner?’ The wife surveys me for a moment. ‘Pity they have to take it down.’ ‘I suppose it all comes and goes.’
‘Grand,’ he called it. Little did he seem to notice that to me, those few words were it. They spelt the end. I return my numb gaze to the street and swivel between Chau’s newspaper stall at one end, past the empty pavement in front of the bleak stretch of some health food store, to finally seek the reassuring sight of that primary school hidden in that narrow avenue, where children would be due just about now to start arriving. School?
If I had eyes to close, I would do. A colossal, faceless green mesh and bamboo scaffolding answer my instinctive pleading. I glance around again.
What will it be like? I’ve lost, changed, and regained my face countless times, like all walls, but never been anyone or anything, never ‘started’; yet here, from nowhere, the end. By the time I’m gone, will I be the last one? Who will remember me? What for? Suddenly, the sad stare of the coffin store wall comes into mind. No wonder. I can’t bring myself to look back that way.
It feels like awakening from an 80-year dream. It should do. It all comes and goes. I thought I’d seen it all. Maybe it does. And maybe, soon, I will have.
It Comes and Goes seoG dna semoC tI It Comes and Goes eoG dna semoC tI It Comes and Goes G dna semoC tI Comes and Goes na semoC tI mes and Goes moC tI nd Goes tI oes Jad
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U TRU
ANGELINA W
The moment I had first laid eyes Intrigued yet ignorant in its presence I was marked.
Since then I hid and it sought. It follows and I run
If I run I can escape If I escape I won’t know My illusions all Untouched.
UTH. U
A WANG (13R2)
Panting I wipe the cold sweat off my brow and steal a look over my shoulder as it engulfs me.
The truth grabs me by the neck and hangs me over the ledge, Tightens its rope around my neck as I begin to cease.
RACHAEL LEE (13Y2)
Nothing In Life Is Inevitable Michelle Qiu (09P2) “They got good grades because they were smart, it’s so not fair!” “This group won the event because they are endowed with talent.” These are words that are often heard not only at school but in society. Many believe that life’s success and failures are inevitable, this is a fatalistic view. I believe that people possess this view in order to make excuses for their laziness and cowardice. Many in life want to enjoy the fruits of labour but do not want to put in the sweat and tears to cultivate them. Therefore, I believe that nothing in life is inevitable. Success comes from hard work and risk taking. Einstein said “ Genius is 1 percent of talent and 99 percent hard work” Without hard work, success is out of reach no matter how much talent you have been blessed with. Colonel Sander’s recipe for the now most famous Kentucky Fried Chicken was rejected 1,009 times. If he had given up the world would not be able to enjoy the delicious sensation and investors would not be rewarded with huge profit. Without a doubt, you must have heard of Vincent Van Gogh's Starry night or Bedroom in Arles. However, it is a shocking fact that such a talented artist has only sold one piece of artwork in his lifetime. Instead of considering himself as a failed artist, he poured his life into chasing after his passion. Although he did not rise to fame in his lifetime, he had become one of the most well known artist in history, being remembered forever. Success comes from hard work, it is an indisputable fact. Success in life also comes from taking risks. Too many people play it safe, “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body. But rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming…. Wow! What a ride! “, Mark Frost once said. Without taking risks, you will not be able to improve. Elon Musk is the founder of Tesla and SpaceX, he made his fortune from PayPal. He could have retired into a comfortable life but he didn’t rest, he created Tesla and Spacex. He has created Tesla, the most popular green car that even my dad is driving. Although he had already established a comfortable life, he stepped out of his comfort zone in order to create people’s dreams into reality. People who are not afraid of failures tend to be successful people. Failure in life results from one’s self making as well. This typically comes from being lazy and character deficiency. There was a chinese story about a rich family with a lazy son, the son didn’t do anything on his own, not even putting food in his mouth. One day, his parents left home for a long journey, they were concerned that his son would starve to death so that they made a big cake to hang around his neck, when they returned, the son has starved to death because he ate the cake around his neck and didn't manage to turn the cake. People fail in life also because they are greedy and dishonest. Only taxation in life is inevitable, everything else depends on one’s effort and judgement, persistence and perseverance produce performance: nothing else is inevitable.
I S __IN E VIT ABLE
NO T HING IN LI F E
NO T HING IN LI F E I S __IN E VIT ABLE
Hope Patterson (12G1)
The cemetery always did feel empty, but tonight, it felt even emptier. I always thought that the world had a strange way of doing things, certain things take priority over others, certain people take priority of others.
UNF A
JONATHAN WU (09B2)
Cold rain splashed across my face as I sunk into the wet dirt below.
The world laughed at my expense, I cursed the world i
F AIR
)
I stared at the tombstone, tears in the corner of my eyes. He couldn’t resist the fate that the world decided for him. No… I couldn’t resist the fate that the world left for him.
It was unfair.
d itself... I cursed my inevitable fate.
SUSAN LEE (09G1)
Colin Huang (13B2)
a rose, a thorn Remko Kuijis (09R1)
corn hung heavy the swing of a sickle the setting sun sorrow, trickled. a dainty flower a bitter breath life, a rose the thorn of death Days gone, a sick game Everlasting dreams Accepting the pain Tis not what it seems Hearts, never the same...
Inevitable Elizabeth Yee (11P2)
What happened to that innocent child?
What happened to that little girl?
That child of hope, of dreams gone wild.
That girl with eyes like two shining pearls.
Oh how she lit up the world with that wicked grin,
Oh how she loved to skip and twirl and spin,
Oh why, Oh why, did they have to win?
Oh why, Oh why, did they have to win?
Kalysha wong (11p1)
What happened to that women there?
What happened to that youthful teen?
That one on the bench, sitting, bony and bare,
That one with that smile, standing tall and lean.
Her hair blowing lightly into the wind,
Her grin stretching wide across her sharp chin,
Her weak body outlined with bone and skin,
Oh why, Oh why, did they have to win?
Oh when, Oh when, did she get so thin?
生命的農夫 湯淑棋 Christy Tang (12P2)
丟了一把種子 有的人去搶 有的人拍拍屁股 走了 你的眼裡是霓虹燈的閃爍和刺耳喧闐 我的手裡是化學鉛質 少一點再少一點 萬物守恆 都去到了我的土地裡 提取一些嘲笑，揶揄和質疑 製成催化劑 我的種子，很快也就出落 ——參天大樹的俯瞰 你曾不屑渺小的 我的種子的嫩芽 秋天到了 誰該嘲笑誰
Tania Lau (08R1)
r T e t o t Y e ou L A J
)
elyn Cheng (11R2 c o
Artwork By Alicia Zhang (09R1)
Lara Carolan (12R1)
Photograph by Enzo Cremers (12p2)
Written By Katie Chiu (07G1) There once was a town called Greenflower. Everyone knew each other in Greenflower, the community loved to help each other and make friends with the newcomers. Greenflower was also one of the prettiest towns in the east, they had exotic rare flowers and plants that only a few places had. There was a tree in Greenflower that was healthier and stronger than any tree, its branches long and stable with tiny green leaves decorated around it. This tree was The Greenflower Tree, it resembled the town Greenflower, and everyone loved the tree with their hearts. The town was inhabited by both humans and animals, they all lived in a peaceful and enjoyable environment in Greenflower. But in the Flower Mountains, there was a gigantic castle made out of stone bricks. In the castle, there lived a rich family, the Oreos. The Oreos were mysterious, and rarely came out of their castle. But when they did, villagers would try to talk to them, only to get shouted and insulted by the Oreos. The Oreo Castle was grand and fancy, there were twenty four rooms in total in the castle. Each room had a large carpet with beautiful patterns and expensive furniture. The staircases were made out of gold and had large shiny gemstones on the handrails, even the toilets were made out of gold. The Oreo’s daughter was called Elizabeth, she was 20 and spent her whole life in the castle. Elizabeth was spoilt and bratty, she didn’t know how to take care of herself and the servants did everything for her. She kept complaining about getting old, and Elizabeth wanted to stay young forever. Her servants told her that it is impossible to not age, but Elizabeth fired all the servants who said that and screamed. One day, she heard that the Greenflower Tree can make anyone immortal. Elizabeth instantly sent out all her servants to cut the tree down and bring it back to her.
The servants complained and tried to explain to her that they couldn’t harm the Greenflower tree, because it was it was Greenflower’s one and only jewel, but Elizabeth only screamed back at them and threatened to fire them if they didn’t do as she said. Some servants retired and gave up on Elizabeth when she said that, but a few stayed and agreed to help her cut down the tree at midnight. Five servants carried axes and headed out into the forest, as they reached the tree and were about to chop it, a bright green light suddenly shone from the tree. A deep voice rumbled “Go home and tell your master that aging is inevitable no matter what, this is a warning.” The green light slowly dimmed, and the servants that were scared out of their mind instantly dropped their axes and ran back to the castle. After the servants got back, Elizabeth was waiting at the doorway. She angrily shouted “WHERE IS THE TREE?” The servants told her about the green light and the voice that told them that aging is inevitable. Elizabeth didn’t believe them and quickly fired them. The green light was Greenflower’s spirit, it couldn’t believe Elizabeth’s stubbornness and decided to explain to her in her dreams. When Elizabeth woke up, she understood that some things are just unstoppable like aging and death. She forgave her servants and apologized to the ones that she fired for being rude and stubborn. Elizabeth opened her eyes and started changing into a kinder and wiser person.
Bertha Ho (12R1)
马拉松 Elaine Hua (12R1)
竞走在柏油马路上 汗水混杂着过去的萎靡 撩过耳旁 在速度与激情中 被甩在身后 我踏着稳健的步伐 一步，又一步 仿佛踏着羽毛 又好似乘着海浪 连身上的包袱 也被海浪卷下 我忘记了过去的执迷和懊悔 只是一心想着向前 每一步踏过的土地 都是过去的街景 人，马路，树林 平平无奇 却不再寡色冷寂 而是在汗水的折射下 映出七彩的光景 我持续前进 在风的推动下 我感觉到身体正在经历脱胎换骨的改变 以往的迷茫已经不在 过去的执迷也已忘却 现在 我想的只是如何踏好脚下每一寸的土地
Surrogates
Adele Li (07P1)
Artwork by cindy lim (12y1)
Hey.
But life
It’s me at your door.
It’s funny
Is now
The last time I saw you
Really.
Just
You were judging the color
An over
Of my wispy
Each time
Ridden
Crimson
You think you hurt me.
Roller Coaster.
I face the day
Always
I wonder
Knowing
Going through
If you still
That you
The same ritual
Think
Will be hunting
Again
That
For your prey.
Hair.
And again
Red Is out of style.
And again.
)
Waiting For everything To go out of business. You’ve Used me As a Surrogate Storing all Sorts of things In me Waiting for them To Bloom. Every one Is tiny in our world. A small Chip On a chain Of paper dolls.
You and I Are oil and water. We don’t mix. But secretly, I admire you. So much power, In those words of yours. Trapping me In the inevitable world Of myself. I guess you and I Are both surrogates Living in the same Cruel World. Aren’t we all?
高中
湯淑棋 Christy Tang (12P2) 眼皮的拔河 無力地喧囂抗爭 酸鼻頭褶皺著 夏末濕熱的長征 指尖的舞蹈 機械地劃過歡聲笑語 無所顧慮地奔跑 穿過春夏秋冬的擁抱 我的眸中是信仰與挫折交膀 你的眼裡是波光粼粼的蕩漾 但當我展開豐滿的羽翼 你 也就成為了我
Stephanie Kung (13g1)
u
- Pablo N e r ng.” u d mi a co
“You can c
INEVITABLE issue 17
eep spring f r ot k o m nn ca
owers but l f e h t y l ou l a t
Song Playlist
1
2
3 7
8 9
10 15
6 11
1 14
1 What if - Colbie Caillat 2 Through it All- Charlie Puth
4
3 Sundane - The True Blue 4 Silhouettes - colony house 5 attention - joji 6 Paris in the rain - lauv
5
7 midnight - offonoff 8 death with dignity - sufjan stevens
9 seasons - greyson chance 10 soul trippin - swim deep 11 my favourite clothes - rini
12
12 coaster - khalid 13 EVERYDAY (STRIPPED.) - JEREMY ZUCKER 14 KING AND LIONHEART - OF MONSTERS AND MEN
13
15 EASY - MAC AYRES
playlist curated by stephanie yu 12g1
EMAIL scribbles.cis@gmail.com FACEBOOK facebook.com/scribbles.cis ISSUU issuu.com/scribbles.cis
Lara Carolan (12R1)