寫 意 ISSUE 16
SCRIBBLES
nirvana 1. a place or state of oblivion to care, pain, or external reality 2. a goal hoped for but apparently unattainable
Made possible by the English department and publication suite
LARA CAROLAN
11R1
THE TEAM
Writers
Timothy Tse Emily Xia Nicole Chen Christy Tang Gabriella Au Yvette Cheng Corine Huang Georgina Savage
Layout
Vanessa Chan Stephanie Yu
Artists
Lara Carolan Phyllis Lam Karen Chan Shannon Ha Nicole Li Cheryl Ting Vanessa Chan
English Writing Director Cindy Kim
Art Director
Charlotte Lang
Layout Director Vanessa Chan
Operations Director Phyllis Lam
Chinese Writing Director Tina Mi
A LETTER
FROM THE ED BOARD Dear CIS, The school year is about to come to an end. Together, we have been rewarded with new friendships, new experiences, and new challenges. Our theme for issue 16 sheds light on the stressful moments and anxiousness we are forced to experience every day: in Nirvana, we have given our writers and artists a chance to express their inner paradise, a platform where they can relax and reflect upon the joys and achievements in their life. Struggle and havoc are inevitable, but we can control how we handle the stress and doubt. Through Nirvana, we hope to create a place where students 亲爱的汉基， can express their heartwarming experiences, to spread some light and positivity to the CIS community as we say goodbye to the year 13s, and wish 本学年已经落下帷幕，此时此刻，我们收获 了友谊的硕果，丰富的履历，或许还有新的 them all the best on their new adventures. 挫折。不论是大学、实习的申请也好，寄 宿、暑期学校的报名也罢，甚至仅仅是一门 令你感到吃力的学校课程，或许都是你日常 Love, 生活中所经历的压力与焦虑的源头。“皆合 涅槃清净妙德”，人人都向往没有烦恼、痛 The Scribbles Team 苦，苦行和轮回的极乐世界，伴随着如此的 念想，我们将与你一同携手走入汉基创作者 心目中无忧无虑，自由欢悦的伊甸园。 纠纷和浩劫无可避免，但是我们仍然可以调 节自身的心态去面对种种烦恼。《写意》团 队希望在第十六期刊“涅槃”，同学们可以说 说他们在生活中所经历过的温暖瞬间，传播 希望和正能量给整个汉基团体，这也是为了 与十三年级的学姐学长更好的告别，祝他们 在未来前途似锦、一切顺利。 《写意》编辑组
CONTENTS
一个杀手的涅槃 BOY WITH BIRD BONES ELEGY I HOLD A STORM BETWEEN MY PALMS FEELIN’ FRUIT Y LOOK ONE 神奇的瓶子 (一) 神奇的瓶子 (二) A BITTERSWEET MOONC AKE T WO BEYOND KYLEMORE ABBEY
那时，他是一个杀手， 为了赏金和虚荣 不惜刀尖常泛红， 纸醉金迷繁华灿烂 但他从来没有平安。 直到他自己也蒙了冤， 才醒悟生命必须改变 血痕撕裂他的容颜 愧疚使他度日如年 那天起 他放下了到手的白银 重铸一颗黄金般的心
一个杀手的涅槃 Kevin Su
此刻，他是一个侠客， 只替正义代言。 行走天涯，只身仗剑 来去如风，清除腐贪 虽背负各种怨念， 他却能好梦常酣
Dichotomy Nicole Li
13B2
11G2
boy with the bird bones Georgina Savage
13Y2
where are your bones from, boy? where did they get their narrow cast? did you steal them from a bird, boy? or were they yours from days past? does the hollow bones of your collar— match the emptiness in your fluttering ribs? does the cutting point of your wrist— ever pierce your translucent skin? where are your feathers bird bone boy? can you feel them on your back? do they gleam unseen from your shoulder blades or from some hidden crack? will they ever grow unknown to beat against the air? or will you remain forever grounded with not feathers, but hair? who took your wings bird boy? so that you couldn’t fly? did they cut them from you, while you hurt and cried? i grieve for you, my birdless boy, trapped on this cage of earth but heed this plea of mine, dear: your wings are not your worth
Nest Christina Shen
13P2
Elegy Corine Huang
9B2
bring her white noise fill the background of her dreams bring her the dark to kindle the beam bring out her voices ensure that they are pleased find her glowing eyes empty the space between it’s nearing now an abysmal sigh she blows out her candle she reaches the light see the girl suspended amidst her flight watch as she ascends no smile no cry
i hold a storm between my palms Georgina Savage i hold a storm between my palms i keep thinking about the sound of your lips, the quiet gasp pressed tight into the curve of my neck the thunder of your heart— there was rain in your irises— and i could feel myself slip sliding washed down, dark into the valleys between the pale clench of your knuckles the sound of my breath is like a siren in the silence. the skim of your hand on the skin on my stomach are like sparks ricocheting from the grasp of my fingers on the ridges of your back. —your spine is a live wire and i can taste the ozone on my tongue. Lichtenberg ain’t got nothing on you, love i’ll be seeing your marks for months to come.
13Y2
PHYLLIS LAM
11R2
Feelin Fruity Timothy Tse
11R2
When she bit into that apple she fell down down down in a paradise where trivial things didn’t exist where regrets of the past couldn’t catch up where dreams given up were suddenly reborn where love is not ignored instead, returned where the enchanting butterfly emerges from its cocoon, born to fly. She didn’t need no Garden of Eden Where this ignorant bliss existed Eating at her curiosity And off she ran ran ran into places where paradise was lost where hearts smashed like a delicate vase where people said goodbyes where love bites and wounds never close Welcome
Nicole Li
13B2
Nicole Li
13B2
Look Gabriella Au
11R2
I open my eyes and look up The blue sky stares back Filling my mind with much-needed peace Jungles of glass and concrete Poison filling the air Contaminating the sky Until she becomes murky grey I watch from my windows as the humans scurry by Humans Disgusting beings Closing my eyes and clearing my mind I return My feet brush against the soft bristles of the carpet Blanket of the Earth A soft breeze holds my head in its embrace Then at last I see you Standing on a hill filled with white buds “Come” An extended hand You lead me to a heaven that’s been in front of me All along
ONE Nicole Chen
11B2
I was married. White picket fence, the suburbs, perfect lawn with perfect flowers with more colours than the rainbow. Laughter and tears, kisses and screams, sunshine and rain, all encapsulated in our tiny little house. I could never hate it. Through the pain, the sadness, the anger, and sometimes frustration, that house was still filled with love. Love is scary sometimes; it’s one thing to want to be happy with them for the rest of your life, it’s another when making them happy makes you happier than you could’ve ever been. Maybe that’s love. Maybe it’s more than the dates and the wedding and the ring, maybe it’s about the story, the coffee spilling, the stain she left on my designer shirt, and the smile she had on when I told her it was okay. Or maybe it’s the naivety. The whole believing in forever thing, as if the story never ends. What even is a happily ever after? What’s a good ending? All endings are bad. Always. It means the story is over, and what happens then? Sure, pick up a new book, but just know that the characters that came to life, the experiences they had and the dreams they wanted to achieve, all ended. Their story, becoming nothing more than a few pieces of paper left on a bookshelf to slowly collect dust. Like us. Tucked away. At least books can be reread. It wasn’t all good in our house. It isn’t just getting laughline near your eyes or holding hands in the park. It wasn’t like that. We were never like that. We had arguments. Heated ones. We would drive each other crazy. It’s strange knowing someone so well, knowing what can hurt them, what buttons to push, exactly how to phrase a sentence to irk them. It’s insane how far our fighting went, it’s surprising we didn’t keep boxing gloves in our drawers. There was always something about us that made people concerned. My friends would ask if we were okay and my parents would call me every
Karen Chan
11B2
time they found out we fought. It was comedic to us. They never understood us, how we functioned and worked, because that’s how it was. We just… worked. We both knew it like a silent vow. But it’s different now isn’t it. All the perfect days of looking at her draw by the window, the sunny Tuesdays with her pestering me to go outside, the rainy cold days when we would cuddle under furry blankets and pretend we were in another universe. A galaxy made just for us. Then again, maybe it was. I think about that a lot. How I was made just to meet her, like the world was made for us to collide… or maybe I’m stupid. Maybe the stars just aligned and luck was on our side. A gentle miracle that lead me to a whole new unexpected nirvana. Maybe the stars shifted. Now instead of saying “my wife’s late” I say “my late wife”, instead of watching her paint I stare at her old unfinished paintings for hours, imagining how they would’ve looked like, it’s different every time, but I know she would’ve thought of something similar, because we always think alike. Well… we used to. It only got worse from there. I found a new lover, tears, guilt, and all the women I’ve brought home. I don’t do it for my own pleasure, I do it for the guilt at the end, the despair and the wrongness. The scent of their cheap perfume being a reminder that it’s not her, and that it can’t be her. It’s been years, and I’ve stopped the internal emotional punishment, but then the regret settled in. It’s always felt like she’s been with me, and that just made it worse. I wonder if she’d be disappointed. Nothing hurts me more than betraying her. Just the other day, I finally worked up the courage to look at her belongings. A few photos of us, her clothes, a movie ticket from our date, a lot of useless makeup that she protected with her life, and a diary. A diary with all the love she’s ever had for me. From the day she met me, to the day she left me. Cheryl Ting
11Y2
And under that diary was a gun. It felt like the stars aligned again.
LARA CAROLAN
11R1
神奇的瓶子 （一） 一滴 一米二 一勺 一米三五 一碟 一米四二 一碗 一米五七 一瓢 一米六九 一盆 一米七 都倒进去吧 长不了啦
神奇的瓶子 （二） 这个瓶子 是个透明的瓶子 跟着我来到了这个世界上 好像是上帝赐予我的附属品 在童年的咿咿呀呀中空了好多年 我纳闷 这是个可以装满草莓味糖果的瓶子吗 还是能盛满我常光顾的那家料理店的 味增汤 或是咖啡 即使我最近才迷糊地爱上它 这个瓶子 自什么时候开始 有液体 每天一点一点滴进了瓶口 直到装满我才搞懂了 原来这里边的液体是咸的 酸的 苦的 辣的 我泯下一口 居然也不和妈妈吵着要碗糖水漱口了 哈 不知不觉中 我好像也长大了
Christy Tang
11P2
A bittersweet mooncake Timothy Tse
11R2
as I gaze up at the fluffy night sky and see the stars the moon you by myself I walk for the first time in a while with a smile I look for the first time in a while as I look at you the cosmos align the stars shine brighter the moon glows stronger the night seems endless
Shannon Ha
13G2
TWO
LARA CAROLAN
11R1
“What do you think it’s like?” “What?” Zoya looked up from her phone after commenting on the millionth picture. I grinned, at least she’s pretending to care, as if she would rather talk to me than like that one photo from her favourite celebrity. It’s the thought that counts. “To be happy. What do you think true happiness feels like?” “That feeling after you buy a new pair of shoes.” I snorted. Right. She shoved me, making me almost lose balance and plummet down the cliff we’re on. “Are you trying to kill me?” I laughed, shoving her back. “I mean… real happiness. When everything seems right.” She pointed to her boots, currently strapped to her dangling feet, hovering above the abyss. Zoya looked down at her phone again, and completely ignored my question. I rolled my eyes. She doesn’t get it. “How about falling?” “Huh?” “Down this cliff. Do you think it’s like the movies? Your life flashing before your eyes?” “I mean… I guess.” She brushed my question off, her fake nails tapping at the screen. Tap, tap, tap.
“I think about that sometimes.” I fidgeted with a small rock I found on the nearby ground. “Jumping down a cliff?” “No. Just… if my life flashes before my eyes, would I feel happy? At ease?” “Would you think of this moment? Right now?” She put her warm hand on mine, urging me to say yes. I know the right answer is, of course I would, but realistically I’ll probably forget about this next week. A breeze passed us softly, cradling my face, her hair fluttered in the wind like butterflies while the leaves of red and brown autumn trees started falling down like rain, taking my breath away. I breathed in, the refreshing fragrance of dried leaves and sweet flowers mixed with the woodsy aroma of mossy tree bark and damp soil, becoming one with my body. “Maybe.” A safe answer. I watched the light in her eyes dim, but she plastered on a smile. “Good.” A blanket of comfortable silence descended upon us. I glanced at her hands, so dainty and graceful, her thumb rubbing circles on the black screen. She looks pensive, her gaze focused on the edge we sat on.
LARA CAROLAN
11R1
“You know,” Zoya sighed, her deep eyes looking up to the sky, completely lost in thought, “I think you can only feel real happiness when you’re not thinking of anything. When it feels empty.” She pursed her lips, as if she has something left to say, a word at the tip of her tongue, but she closes her mouth.
I stood up, brushing off the dirt and grass on my jeans. “Hey! Where are you going?” Zoya fluffed her skirt, running after me, her boots clacking against the rocky ground.
“Like floating?”
“Hey, are you upset or something? We can get lunch together tomorrow. I’ll pay.”
“No.” She firmly answered. “Like depriving yourself of all senses. An empty mind.” “Why?” “Maybe that’s just how it works. It’s not a nebulous figure, it’s a sensation. After falling down that cliff you can’t feel anything anymore… so maybe that’s being happy. What can go wrong when nothing can go right either? It’s peaceful.” I let a smile creep onto my face. I love Zoya when she’s like this, when she stops and ponders about the world, when she’s more than a barbie doll trying to conform to society, when she’s more herself. Her thoughts have always been fascinating, though she normally acts nonchalant about everything. I put my head on her shoulder, letting my eyes gently shut, twirling a lock of her honey coloured hair between my fingers. I took a deep breath. The familiar scent of her mango shampoo and body wash filled my lungs. Maybe this is nirvana.
“I just… I got my answer.”
“Zoya. I’m not mad.” She let out a breath she’s been holding, put her phone in her pocket, and linked her hand with mine. “Are you not happy now?” She questioned. I turned to face her, trying to read her expression. The wrinkle between her brows and glint in her eyes showing she’s serious. I squeezed her hand. “No. I am.” I exhaled. “Good.” She whispered, not quite believing me. “I promise.” “Good.” We walked hand in hand, back home. Nicole Chen
11B2
Beyond and I smiled for the first time in a while?
Was it when your love was reciprocated?
where no one told you what to do
Was it finding yourself?
Was it when you all shared a bed
Was it find
Was it finding yourself? and I smiled for the first time in a while? Was it when your love was reciprocated? far far away
Was
it finding yourself?
In a smoky small hotel
Was it finding yourself?
Was it when people missed reappeared?
ing yourself?
cramped into the crisp white blankets far far away
Was it when the sun rose above the clouds?
Was it when you all shared a bed
Was it finding yourself?
Was it when the sun rose above the clouds?
and I smiled for the first time in a while? Was it finding yourself?
Was it when people missed reappeared?
Was it when you all shared a bed
Was it finding yourself?
In a smoky small hotel far far away where no one told you what to do and I smiled for the first time in a while? Was
it finding yourself?
cramped into the crisp white blankets
first time in a while? Was it finding yourself?
In a smoky small hotel
Was it when your love was reciprocated?
Was it when the sun rose above the clouds? Was it finding your-
self? far far away where no one told you what to do bed
Was it finding yourself?
white blankets
far far away
Was it when you all shared a
and I smiled for the first time in a while?
Was it when people missed reappeared?
far far away
and I smiled for the
cramped into the crisp
Was it when you all shared a bed
where no one told you what to do
it when you all shared a bed
Was it when you all shared a bed
Was it finding yourself?
and I smiled for the first time in a while?
it when people missed reappeared? Was it when you all shared a bed In a smoky small hotel
away
where no one told you what to do
cramped into the crisp white blankets
Was
Was
far far
and I smiled for the first time in a while?
Was it when you all shared a bed
Was it finding yourself?
Kylemore Abbey YVETTE CHENG
8Y2
Thirteen years have past, thirteen long winter years, With the length of three short summers, Again the strings of my heart play (like a harp) The chorus of the christened water, unraveling from the mountain-spring Yards of fine sapphire silk Canoned with a gentle inland lullaby - Once again Do I behold these pearly heights and lofty cliffs That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The sycamores rustle-an accompaniment To the Prima-donnas of the performance The nuns in the chapelThe angels on earth, washing away all tainted forces of Satan, of humanity, of mechanism. These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a masterpiece to a sow But of, concrete cemeteries and cruel crowds In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration—feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man’s life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, My dear, dear sisters! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray My flightly soul has floated back: To the silver palace made of stone, the Asgard in Belfast. The gothic castle, with towers made to send off doves and not arrows. The clear moat of lakewater, with pristine white swans to build a drawbridge, A transfer of red and green leaves A pastoral gem in the big, wide, already travelled world. Gateway to heaven. Kylemore Abbey is where his lord houses the angels in this world.
Song Pl
Shut Out of Paradise SLO
Marks Beauvois
Medicine The 1975
LDR Curtismith
Show Me John Splithoff, Madison Ward
Sweet Disposition The Temper Trap
laylist
Japanese Denim Daniel Caesar
Everyday (Stripped.) Jeremy Zucker
Next To Me Imagine Dragons
ILYSB - STRIPPED LANY
Grey Luh Berhana
IVY Frank Ocean
EMAIL scribbles.cis@gmail.com FACEBOOK facbook.com/scribbles.cis ISSUU issuu.com/scribbles.cis
KAREN CHAN
11B2