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.scribbles issue 19 // winter 2020
“Gemini Man” by Alysa Wong (12B2)
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” ~ Edith Sitwell
com·fort | ˈkəmfərt | noun 1. a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. 2. the easing or alleviation of a person’s feeling of grief or distress.
“Koi” by Helen Liang (11B1)
Top: “A Walk In The Woods “ Bottom: “Sunset By The Lake” by Tania Lau (09R2)
ENGLISH WRITING DIRECTOR Jocelyn Cheng & Alysa Wong
CHINESE WRITING DIRECTOR Grace Ma
ART DIRECTOR Jessica Hu
LAYOUT DIRECTOR Nicole Xiang
OPERATIONS DIRECTOR Rita Hsu
Made possible by the English Department and the Publications Suite. Cover art Music playlist
Jessica Hu (12G1) Oliver Tseng (12P1)
10-MinuteTangent Vasco Tricoire (12B1)
Artwork by Brittany Au (10CC) Layout by Wee Lee Tan (12B1)
I find that as I get older, my mind has shown itself to be untamed when I desire to focus; there are days even when even reading has proven a challenge to focus on. The truth is, it’s almost liberating to let the mind unleash itself and run free. There is a surprising comfort in letting the mind run rampant, to allow for the brain to work in its most prime conditions, without restraints. That is the only time the body feels true comfort. It’s in this situation that I found myself addressing the definition of comfort. Comfort is classified by the Cambridge English Dictionary as ‘a pleasant feeling of being relaxed and free from pain’. This definition is quite self-explanatory until you observe the definition of pain, which claims that pain is anything that makes you feel ‘sad and upset’. The problem is: what is the base level of sadness required to enter a state of comfort. For the sake of argument, let’s say that I failed a test. Naturally, I would be sad about my failure, but that feeling does not deter me from being able to comfortably lie down at home and embrace the monotony of my life. On the other hand, if I was informed that a family member or close friend had died, I completely agree that I would be unable to comfortably lie down and feel any ounce of emotions apart from sadness. Now you could rebuttal my claims by saying that the definition I took for comfort seems to mean one of physical comfort and not of mental comfort, or you could say that the definition of pain which is presented in this text isn’t even the first one you see in the dictionary. However, can you not be at discomfort with your physical looks? Can you not be uncomfortable in your skin? Can you not feel uncomfortable with your deep, dark, violent thoughts? I guess the underlying issue is with vague wording. Vague wording is what makes loopholes in the law. Vague wording is what leads to disagreements. Vague wording is what can lead to deep, dark, violent thoughts. I cannot stress how important precise wording is. Now, am I that crazy as to say that ‘a pleasant feeling of being relaxed and free from pain’ is nothing short of ambiguity? No, I am not. I guess what I’m trying to say is either I cannot grasp what comfort means and am overthinking a very simple definition for a word, or that dictionaries use needlessly vague definitions for some inexplicable reason.
Photography by Annabel Cohen
Chase Jocelyn Cheng (12R2) The lights dissolved into bokeh and the murmurs around her faded into a blur of jibberish. Lazily, she glanced at the clock above her head. It was long past her curfew and she wouldn’t want to face the wrath of another late night out. She made it out of the crowded library and headed down the street she’s walked a million times before. But tonight felt different, right in the reflection of a boutique window she saw something flicker. An indescribable presence weighed down on her chest, she could feel a pair of eyes tracking every minuscule step, but a scan of her surroundings revealed no evidence of her paranoia. Yet she couldn’t let go. What did she see in the reflection of glass? It had materialized. Just for a moment, but she was certain she saw something. And it seemed… familiar. They say to ignore the fears of our mental construct, “out of sight, out of mind.”, but how could she discount what she openly saw? It was behind her, and it’s only inching closer. Once a feeling, but now a physical manifestation. The footsteps were almost audible. She wanted to see, she needed to know. What was keeping her earphones in, jacket closed, hands tucked in? What was keeping her out of the moonlight, out of the spotlight, and embedded to the constraints of her home? She tried to turn her head but the paralyzation of fear kept her head glued straight. It was breathing down the nape of her neck, horror had never felt so raw. Her mind froze, but her legs kept moving. Looking forward she could just make out the shadow of her apartment building. 50... 49... 48... she counted the steps until she could reach safety. But the presence was only growing stronger. It with its hungry eyes and wandering hands. She tried scrambling for her phone but the trembling wouldn’t stop. The one thing on her mind was, “Run.”, and she did. Straight into her mother’s warm embrace. Words need not be exchanged, for her mother knew. It was all too familiar, the menace of the lonesome night.
Caged Bosco Choi (11Y1)
Another hour elapses; And we find ourselves Nested within the trivial comforts Of our yellow bunkers glimmering in the night Like stars meticulously hung above the sky. Another sheet of rain falls; Musical notes slamming Into the ground like a symphony. Ears filled with the sound Of the world’s smallest explosions Rocking around our feet How life is brought forth from each Mushroom cloud raining from the sky; I watched as each blade of grass tentatively wiped away all the tears falling down; How it stood tall despite the symphony Pounding away at its epidermis. I was so tempted to call it mother, So I reached out from my bunker And grasped a hairful of mother back, So she would always be at my side. A part of mother is now with me Sitting on the windowsill Staring longingly out the glass pane, As the symphony reaches its final stage. Don’t laugh; understand I live best When mother lives in a part of me. Understand this part of mother will be at my side, As her body drowns in the wilderness, The rain never stopping to care.
Layout by Sanya Hui (12Y2)
Photography by Annabel Cohen
Tranquilizer Sometimes leaves rustle in the breeze As branches bow in humility. Sometimes I breathe quite quietly As to not disturb tranquility. Half a yellow sun, under the shade of trees The distant whine of buzzing bees Birds chirping quite relentlessly As if to tell me, please don’t leave Losing myself to moments like these Is not too hard, until they unfreeze The budding flowers only bloom in may Sooner or later branches start to sway I feel the gale against my cheek The rocky ground beneath my feet The sky darkens with clouds of pain Serenity is pierced with shards of rain. Seeing is believing, and I can’t unsee The sadness that is thrust in front of me. So long as tomorrow exists I’d rather be blind because Ignorance is bliss. So until tomorrow, I shield my eyes from rain Gently tread away from pain Tranquillise my thoughts so I Can hide under my own disguise. I try to breathe quite quietly So I don’t disturb tranquility.
Karen Lee (12G1)
A Simple Favour by Alysa Wong (12B2) Layout by Wee Lee Tan (12B1)
I asked you for a simple favour: To leave me Alone, in this moment of peace-filled torment. To let me, in silence, find comfort in my tribulations. Still you persisted, and for what reason? Perhaps for the very same reason, that I allowed this Violation of my innocence to slide. My figure, slimmed To emaciation, surrendered to your touch. Forgive and forget, Am I right? Surely the mess of tears on my face shouts yes. Yes, because vulnerability and loneliness and my Female instinct to cry on your shoulder reared Its tattered, ugly horns once, and my pain brought enough Arousal for you to exploit my state of brittle instability. The “butterflies� in my stomach, were really more Like filthy, tangled ropes or melted gummy worms, Twisting inwards on themselves in a wretched agony. Writhing in tandem with the shrillness of this scream, This tinnitus inducing shriek, that knocked The wind from the very depths of my despair, Tore through an impenetrable intensity in the air. Momentarily, the space betweven our heated stare Gone, and so was I. An instant alleviation, almost, Of my own continuous suffering. This suffocatingSuffocatingly unbearable compulsion to end it, and with it, myself. But in a flicker of uncertainty, I saw you, as the hero on the white horse. As the hero, and my knight in truth-blinding armour. I was struck, and In my moment of weakness, I asked of you another favour. I asked you to give me a reason, a reason to endure. But instead, You drove me to the ground and forced upon me, a returned favour.
Comfort in the Pain Valerie Wong (08G2) Down the slide I go, running around in a type of flow. When will this end? Says the old woman by the bench. I go around in circles, bounding and leaping, Finding joy in the complexity that is running around in circles. The old woman sighs and ignores me as she continues to explore the fantasy of chess. I smile and head to the swing, oh how it’s decorated so beautifully. I swing from side to side, but the next thing I know I am on the ground. Legs bleeding, arm swelling, mind spinning, its stings! The old woman comes forth, abandoning her things, I can’t believe my eyes, the old woman before my eyes, Who detests me day and night, leavesall her things behind, And cares for me while I cry! She helps me wash my wound, puts the white plaster on my arm. I groan in pain as it washes, how I regret it, oh dear why? Through weeks of pain I now know why, Comfort will come, as healing does with time, Pain will cease and I’ll know why.
Layout by Jessica Hu (12G1)
“Island”
Ce Mi Lee (11R1)
假如给我三天黑夜 Grace Ma (12B2)
黑暗是什么？黑暗是生命最初的状态。于母亲的子宫里，浸泡在温暖的液体 中，没有声音，没有光，只有心脏的律动。母亲的心跳，与胎儿的心跳，交织呼应， 这便是世界最完美的模样。
呱呱坠地。
光进来了。
不知从什么时候起，光，成了人们所奉承的东西，一点一点，以光的名义，将 每一处角落的阴影吞噬。我们的世界愈来愈亮，愈来愈亮，无处可藏。我们也试着告 诉自己，这是好的，我在变好。打开一只只手电，点起一簇簇烛火，人们拼命地挣扎 着照亮这个世界。 什么是光？坚强是光。我们被告知多少次，不许哭不许哭不许哭。眼泪是明明 咸的，流着流着却成了酸，腐蚀我们的脸颊。去，把它统统倒进臭水沟；连一寸的黑 暗也不许施舍。那个哭泣孩子啊——没有人看得到他哭泣的原因。但是你看，看这些 温暖的笑脸，听这些铿锵的歌声，谁想看到眼泪和脆弱？ 我也曾一度尝试发现光的美。研究太阳底下的草坪，聚焦到每一处细节，昆 虫、露珠、茎的纹路，都暴露在眼前。鲜亮的事物肆意地突出，黯淡的阴影在挣扎中 消散，世界逐渐失真扭曲。 什么是光？规则是光。明明外表上看着一切井然有序，规规矩矩，但是当规则 主宰了自我，我们变成了什么？独特的人成了丑角，敢于说“不”的人被修剪，格格不 入的人被埋葬。可是啊，为了表面的安宁，这些牺牲不足为道，不是吗？ 我走在洒满阳光的走廊上，闭起了眼睛，凭着想象中的直线继续走着，偷且片 刻喘息。渐渐，渐渐，我开始幻想我双目失明，耳朵也再也听不到声音，让世界再次 安静下来。 什么是光？现实是光。多少次我们企图逃离，多少次我们企图改变，却每一次 都得向它妥协。有一些梦想终究是妄想，有一些梦境终究是幻境，有一些发誓过的努 力终究变成了无力残喘。可是这个所谓的现实又是从哪里来的呢？光照到的，才是我 们看得见的地方；黑暗深处，或许才是那无人问津的真相。 在这个充斥着光明的世界里，在这个崇尚光明的世界里，或许还有人愿意坚守 着黑暗，施舍一点黑夜。
我静静地等待，等待黑夜到来。
anonymous piece Writer: anonymous Artist: Jessica Poon 11R2 | Layout: anonymous Alex Cranna drove his car past the rusty sign creaking back and forth in the light breeze that said ‘Welcome to Rosedale, Mississippi’ with no clue of what he was getting himself into. When he accepted his job at the New York Printworks, he had expected to report on the glamorous lavish life of the likes of Kelly Ann or spend his days writing Op-eds about delusional politicians. He wasn’t aware that driving 23 hours on state highway 1 to a random deserted place in the middle of nowhere was on the agenda. It became exceedingly apparent to him as he drove his last leg of the journey, that all the urban comfort he was used to, had slowly drifted in the distance until he was driving over nothing more than hilly plains of grass and dirt. Rosedale was a small town. In fact, he was told by a past resident that there were no more than 68 occupants living there. As he pulled up to his homestay for the following week, a middle-aged woman welcomed him with open arms. She was fairly tall with a slim figure. Her hair was straight, her clothes well-ironed, and she adorned a pair of perfectly cut diamond earrings. From first glance to Alex, she looked like the most unassuming and refreshingly plain individual he had ever seen. In striking contrast, however, her eyes were dark and glassy, and her pupil had a hint of red showing through as if she was staring right into his soul or reading his mind. As she smiled, Alex was particularly taken aback as she revealed a set of razor-sharp teeth, with bright red gums seething through the edges. He didn’t say, but it made him increasingly uncomfortable. Stay calm, he
told himself. Alex pursed his lips together and tightly smiled back. She quickly pointed to a pastel yellow single-story colonial house behind her (exact replicas of every house he had seen driving in), introduced herself as Annie and blabbed on and on about how excited she was to tell her neighbours that a reporter, a real reporter, had come to Rosedale and was staying at her house. She quickly reached for his suitcase and offered to take it for him, pulling at it a little too tightly on it. Alex politely refused her help with a shake of his head. She quickly pointed to a pastel yellow single-story colonial house behind her (exact replicas of every house he had seen driving in), introduced herself as Annie and blabbed on and on about how excited she was to tell her neighbours that a reporter, a real reporter, had come to Rosedale and was staying at her house. She quickly reached for his suitcase and offered to take it for him, pulling at it a little too tightly on it. Alex politely refused her help with a shake of his head. She quickly pointed to a pastel yellow single-story colonial house behind her (exact replicas of every house he had seen driving in), introduced herself as Annie and blabbed on and on about how excited she was to tell her neighbours that a reporter, a real reporter, had come to Rosedale and was staying at her house. She quickly reached for his suitcase and offered to take it for him, pulling at it a little too tightly on it. Alex politely refused her help with a shake of his head.
Dragging his suitcase behind him, Alex followed her into the house. It’s interior was all white and grey, giving off a cold vibe despite the fact that two kids (evidently her children) were running wild around the house. The woman apologized to Alex about their behaviour, and gave them a stern warning, before introducing them to him. They were a boy and a girl, both with a strikingly similar resemblance to their mother. As they looked up to wave at Alex, he also noticed their eyes and teeth were similar to their mother, making him dismiss the threat of the supernatural, and think of it to be no more than an issue of genetics. She led him through the main corridor, and past the study (where he shared a stiff nod of the head with a man -most likely her husband, sitting, reading the paper), and into his room. Alex thanked her, closed the door tightly shut, and threw his stuff into a random corner of the space, collapsing onto a king-size bed and falling into a deep sleep. He was awoken at an ungodly hour, by constant loud thuds coming from two houses down. Annoyed, he tossed and turned around in his bed, covering his ears and pleading for the noise to stop, but it didn’t. After two hours of trying to block the noise out. He eventually drifted back to sleep. Alex awoke he found that it was almost noon, evidently distressed from the night before. He got dressed and went out to the dining area to find Annie, her husband and two children sitting around the table in the middle of saying grace. Awkwardly, he took sat down on the free seat next to her - set out for him, and joined in. When everyone looked up from their prayer, Annie smiled at Alex. “Deep sleeper? You must have been exhausted.” “Actually, the opposite. There was some sound coming from the house across for ages last night. Did you guys hear it?” Each member of the family responded with a shake of the head, but Alex didn’t miss the kids sharing a side glance, and Annie biting her lip and squeezing her husbands arm gently. “Really? Maybe I was dreaming. It was so odd.
It sounded like heavy thuds, almost like someone was hacking a tree down or something in there.” Annie’s husband quickly changed the topic, diverting the attention to Alex. He asked where he was from (New York), how he got his job, where he went to university, and why he chose a career in reporting. As his career was Alex’s favourite subject, he willingly left the topic of his troubled night, as everyone hungrily devoured Annie’s delicious meatloaf. Later that afternoon, Alex decided to go for a stroll around the town, wanting to forget his night, and find at least something he could potentially write about. He thought about writing on the mundaneness of the town, or something about them living the American Dream, but found that all of his ideas were just too boring - besides, there was no one outside (a stark contrast to what his life in New York was like). As he brainstormed, he soon lost track of time and found himself strolling under the illumination of the few lampposts Rosedale’s streets had. Alex tried hard to find his way back home, but as he soon found out, all the houses in rosedale were identical to the one he was staying at, he became hopelessly and utterly lost. Just as he was about to give up, he began to hear the same hacking sounds that he had the previous night faintly in the distance, and he decided to follow it back to his homestay. As he neared the house, the thuds got louder and louder. He felt slightly frightened, but as he reminded himself of needing a story to write about, his interest peaked, as he walked to the door of the house and pressed his head against it, hearing the loud thuds and faint almost screaming like sounds coming from the inside. He feared the worst, but his curiosity finally prevailed, and he worked up the guts to knock on the door.
“Early Stages”
The door opened to what you would barely say was ‘ajar’, to reveal a small girl (about the age of 4) bone-thin and scaley, peek through the door and give him a weak smile. Alex noticed that she was bleeding lightly from her shaven head, her electric blue eyes as if screaming with urgency, pleading Alex for help. The house looked empty. There was no sight of cushy furniture like in Annie’s house. But Alex couldn’t help but be alarmed by the sight of blood trickling down the floorboards behind her. Before he could open the door further to see what it was, he heard a loud gasp from the inside, and the hacking sound stopped; a blur of a middle-aged man with razor-sharp teeth, and large huge, gaping holes for eyes stared at Alex for a second as if scanning him, pulled the girl aside, and shut the door firmly.
About 10 minutes passed, but as he sat in his room, he heard the door open and the very same voice that had gasped the night before speak with the family walked in. He prayed to God that the man wasn’t inquiring about him, but he couldn’t be so sure. When he heard the door close, and the voice die out, Alex walked out to enquire.“Who was that?” he asked lightly. “Oh, no one, he was just delivering a parcel for dinner,” Annie replied. Afraid to ask any more questions, Alex retreated to his room to write down his experience for the previous night for the New York Print Works.
When he came out for lunch, he no longer found himself in the same grey and white toned room. Instead, he walked out to colourful streamers, pinwheels hanging and other decorations like. The table was set with a beautiful spread of meatloaf, Shaken from the experience, he instantly regretmeatballs, a selection of vegetables, deviled eggs, ted his decision immediately, and soon found his and of course, meat stew. It seemed that Annie way back to the house and into bed. That night, had spent the entirety of the morning slaving however, he couldn’t sleep, the man’s gaping eyes away in the kitchen. As Alex sat down in his seat, boring into his soul every time he closed his eyes. he began to dig into the feast, devouring the best meat stew he had ever had. Some point within the The next morning he walked out for breakfast, meal he noticed that many of the family’s dark and before he could tell the family of his news, eyes began to ooze with blood from the corners; they excitedly explained to him that that day they looked possessed, their demonic predatory was the festival of Anthropophagus - the town's smiles directed at Alex, as if in a trance. He bit his annual celebration of ‘Children’. When he inquired lip and began to sweat, sticky tears began rolling further, they said that it was a tradition for every down his cheeks. Fearing the worst, he focused his family in town to celebrate over a large feast and attention to his food, but as he ate, it wasn’t long meat stew at lunch. Alex was only able to listen to before the words rolled off his tongue. “This is the them for a few minutes before out of the corner of most amazing meat,” he told Annie. “Really? I got his eye, he spotted the man standing outside of his it from the man who came over this morning.” She door, searching for him through the window from replied. She then turned her attention to one of across the house. He pursed his lips tightly and her children, who seemed repulsed at the sight of tried his very best to ignore the man, but as he the stew. “Eat up, It’s fresh - A Rosedale favorite, couldn’t, excused himself from the table, and ran Kid.” back to his room, closing every curtain he could.
Top: “In the Clouds” by Helen Liang (11B1) Bottom: “Netflix and Chill” by Caterina Jacobelli (13R1)
“Sweater Weather” Angella Ma (09Y2)
Comfort Food Olivia Sun (07G2) and Joanna Wu (07B2)
Comfort food? Does that even exist?! Well, sometimes food can help you relax. For example, when adults are under severe emotional stress, they often turn to food for comfort. Thus the name, comfort food. Comfort food reminds people of their childhood and helps them calm down. So long as it alleviates stress, it can be classified as comfort food. But one thing is certain- they bring both relaxation and nostalgia. Imagine, sitting on the sofa with a rich cup of hot chocolate after a demanding day at work, your stress and anxiety to melting away with each sip of the drink. Comfort can come in many forms. It may not benefit our health in the long run, but it is what our body needs in times of stress. If you’ve had a tough day, it’s okay to eat something unhealthy, but just remember that snacks don’t replace actual meals, so don’t use this as an excuse to convince your parents to let you eat junk food all day!
Procrastination Alysa Wong (12B2)
She has a way with words, she really does. Her every breath and whisper ignites a blazing trail from within, commanding my attention. Enchanting. Mesmerising. Her sultry drawl is ingrained in my mind, and her very existence renders me helpless. I surrender to her beck and call, if only because she holds me captive. I am trapped in a dizzying game of chase, with her slender fingers softly tugging at mine. At times, it seems I am merely the play-toy attached to her leash. But while the seductress wishes for distraction, I wish to expel her from within my head. Alas, it is too late. Her emerald eyes are tempting my flesh and soul. Her tantalizing voice is murmuring sweet nothings into my ear. “Submit chemistry lab”, today. “Maths assessment”, tomorrow. “Biology assessment”, tomorrow. “1000 word Chinese essay”, June 3rd. A sinking feeling festers in my heart as I face the ever growing list of assignments, assessments, due dates, and tasks. A moment passes as I decide on where to begin: Nietzsche’s theory. Command and T, a new tab is open. Nietzsche’s theory. The search bar pops up. N, I type. Like windchimes sounding in the fall, her voice comes. Netflix. Her gleaming eyes pierce through my own and I drop, weightlessly floating in a pool of nothingness.
Netflix. The way she splits the word into two with elegance. Net-flix. My fingertips scramble across the keys, desperate to please her. Return, and the icon swirls as the page loads. Netflix. I am a slave to her every command. “1000 word Chinese essay”, June 3rd. “Research skills paper due”, June 3rd. “History infographic”, June 4th. “English in-class”, June 5th. I pick up my phone from beside me. Just to check the time, nothing more. The screen comes to life, bringing light to every freckle and spot on the bridge of my nose. With every swipe of the screen, I run farther and farther from reality. Her left hand, soft and supple, rests on my cheek. Her laughter floats like sea breeze – without a care, as my fingertips are on this barren and slippery plane. Up, down, left, right. As if on autopilot. Again I wish to expel her from my head, but again it is too late. The melody of her voice lulls all reason into the deepest slumber. Follow me. And I do, only to find her staring back, a sultry smile plastered across her face. Her arm extends towards mine, reaching. She has won, yet again, in our little game of chase.
“Ocean Vibes” by Olivia Sun (07G2) Layout by Hannah Wong
I Like Cold Showers Ethan Lau (12R1)
Warmth is overrated, The comfort it brings is unrelated. I like cold showers, And that is an understatement, Cold showers are like taking risks, The first contact making us shake with brisk, But when our bodies adjust to the water, It’s really nothing but a cold shower. We fear what we don’t know, The out of ordinary and unknown, But once we step into the water, What was once a worry is now just a shower. Cold showers are healthy, Not just for the mind and the body, But it makes us appreciate both the rough and the steady, Both the sharpness and the warmth. I like cold showers, And that is an understatement. The logic that warmth equates to comfort, Is way too overrated.
Layout by Hannah Wong (12Y2)
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Elizabeth Yee (12P2)
Layout by Sanya Hui (12Y2)
!TI HCAELB
Comfort Olivia Sun (07G2)
咬一口美味的烤肉，浓郁的肉汁顺着喉咙，流入胃里，顿时感觉胃里暖暖的。 背上书包，戴上帽子，“一、二、一、二”一步一步往前走......让温煦的阳光温 柔地打在头顶上，听着山里鸟儿叽叽喳喳地歌声，把一切不开心的事忘得一干 二净。 拉开窗帘，外面明媚的阳光照进来，在你的书桌上逗留。拿起一本书，仔细阅 读这书上的每一句话，让自己成为故事的一部分。 拿起铅笔，皱着眉头，努力地思考着。啊！有灵感了。飞快地动着笔，创造出 自己的故事，进入自己的世界。 眼皮越来越沉重，意识越来越模糊，整个人从头顶到脚尖都放松了下来。把脑 子里的一切不美好的记忆都清空，只保留美好的记忆，慢慢地进入梦乡......
“Warmth” by Jessica Hu (12G1)
Layout by Jessica Hu (12G1)
The Hermits That Live Within Us Rita Chun (13G2) We met at the center of the sea, Both of us walking barefoot across the water And embracing as we both drowned Into piles of bleached corals and bicycle tires. There, our corpses were torn apart, Skin against skin, mouths like the water’s edge, And our bones, our lovely, pale bones, Became as sharp as the words we spoke. But it was not you that tore me apart. It was the ocean, and its beckoning, wicked waves That pulled my limbs away from me, Until I became another headless, legless mannequin, Bobbing uselessly in the currents As my closed-eye head floated somewhere on the surface. You were the hermit that crawled Into my useless shell of a body— You lived inside me. And we were so happy That we forgot that we were on the ocean floor.
昔時 翻過籬牆 穿過泥濘街巷 溜進那個秘密花園 笑語歡聲編進雛菊花環 猶如牧童清脆短笛飄蕩原野 回憶 盤旋小溪 月牙掛在樹梢 盛滿星光的天潭中 爬到山頂探索山的那頭 鈴蘭花枝上響起悠揚的夜曲
“Bo By uque Ce t Mi ” Le e
(11
R1
)
陪伴 萬古長青 掙脫空間枷鎖 跳進那牽絆的黃昏 無拘無束拉起心灵的手 惬意地碰撞清澈如泉的目光 歲月 一點一滴 交織人生畫卷 苦樂年華收藏深處 細細品味幾多人生樂章 苦亦是甜酸亦是甜從無窮盡
Andrea Tang (12G1) Layout by Sanya Hui (12Y2)
Photography by Phyllis Lam (13R2)
青春
Deborah Chen (12B1)
青春裡的無知 是一種逃不開的綑綁 用盡淚血與汗的追求 只留下微風下的一陣 空虛 青春裡的愛情 是一個不止息的諾言 夕陽映著夢幻泡泡 我們相互倚靠著 談心 青春裡的反抗 是一團不講理的野火 我們抱怨世界的殘忍 你牽著我冰冷的手 離開 青春裡的痛苦 是一種一箭穿心的痛 填滿屬於我們歷史的書 一瞬間像過眼煙雲般 燒毀
Adrian Wong (09B2)
青春裡的你 純潔柔美如高山雪蓮 還記得雨中的承諾嗎？可惜 跳進我懷抱裡的不再是 你
我很好奇， 当你完全放松，躺在羽毛般的枕头上， 当你的眼皮渐渐地沉重时…… 你感到舒适吗？ 当你喝到一口热乎乎的巧克力牛奶时， 你感到温暖吗？ 当你和家人一起在公园里散步， 或是和他们谈天说地， 你感到幸福吗？
小事 Small Things Iris Zhao (07R1)
我想，会的。 那什么是幸福？什么是开心快乐？什么是舒适呢？ 是你所享受的所有美好， 是生活中点点滴滴的小事， 是让你心情愉悦的小事！ 它可以温暖所有寂寞、孤独与悲伤。 所以，多抽一点时间 留给自己， 留给家人...... “I want to sleep forever”
Angella Ma (09Y2)
The Latest Fashion Angela Shi (07Y2)
“Mia, you have cancer.”
fought back tears for what seemed like the hundredth time
Those four simple words pierced my heart hard
that day, and ran straight to my room, and burst into tears.
like a sword. For weeks, the symptoms had been getting
“Mia, you have some guests.”
stronger, dizziness, seizures, and nausea, but I refused to
It had been almost a month since I turned my
believe it until the results came from the doctor’s mouth.
friends away. The cancer had gotten worse and my parents
Now I lay crying, my head in my mother’s lap. She whis-
decidead that it was no longer safe for me to stay in the
pered soft words of comfort, running her fingers through
house. Two weeks ago, they moved me to the hospital,
my golden hair but I couldn’t hear her. Why me? I won-
where everyday doctors ran tests and stuck tubes in my
dered as I watched snowflakes gently drift on my window-
mouth. The pain was unbearable but it hurt more than I
sill.
didn’t have a single strand of my long golden hair.
I winced in pain as the needle went in, squeezing
I put down my book and narrowed my eyes suspi-
my hand in a tight fist. “The effects of the chemotherapy
ciously as Abigail, Johannah, Rosie, and Nadia sauntered
should go into effect a day or two after we have inserted it
into the room. All four of them were wearing extremely
in your body. There will be severe side effects following…”
extravagant hats, with huge bows and ribbons, even Nadia
the doctor drawled on. I swallow, fending off furious tears.
who claimed that the day they saw her dressing up would
It was bad enough that I was going to lose my hair, I didn’t
be her death day. They had big grins on their faces, which
need to lose my sanity too.
made me all the more suspicious. There was definitely
something fishy in the air.
“Mia, your friends are here.” I drew my eyes
away from the mirror, still not believing the reflection was
me. The hallway door was ajar and through the thin gap,
began.
I could see many of my classmates, Abigail, Johannah,
Rosie, and Nadia were standing outside. My heart rushes
to make you feel better.” Johannah agreed
of excitement but then quickly halted, they couldn’t have
been here to see me, they didn’t even know I had cancer.
beautiful.” Rosie smiled, flashing her cute dimples.
“You have inner beauty, Mia.” nodded Nadia.
my embarrassment. My friends stared at me like I was an
“You’ve always been there when we needed help.”
alien. But then they burst into compliments.
“So now it’s our turn to support you.”
“Mia, you look amazing!”
With a flourish, all four of them threw off their
“When you go back to school, you’re going to be
hats and to reveal shaved heads not a single strand of hair
I paused in front of the door, trying to suppress
“Mia, we understand how you’re feeling,” Abigail “Yes, how you might’ve thought we were lying just “But Mia, we want you to realize that you are
the hottest girl!”
was left. I was speechless, I couldn’t believe I had such
“Every single boy is going to have a crush on you!”
wonderful friends.
“Oh my God Mia! What did you do to your hair?
“You shouldn’t have,” I cried, but this time with
It looks superb!”
tears of happiness.
LIES! I thought to myself. They were my best
“Nonsense, Mia!” Nadia cried. “We’re to make
friends, shouldn’t they be honest with me? Anything would
you feel better at your time of need.”
be better than hearing them call ugly, bald me beautiful. I
“You guys are the best friends ever!” I exclaimed.
Layout by Jessica Hu (12G1)
“dreams”
Olivia Sun (07G2)
“Imagine”
Jessica Poon (11R2)
“If I need a cause for celebration, Or a comfort I can use to ease my mind, I rely on my imagination, And I dream of an imaginary time.” ~ Billy Joel Song: Everybody Has A Dream Album: The Stranger, 1977
“Innovation” by Brittany Au (10CC)
Music Playlist 1
“Sloop John B” The Beach Boys
2
“Love Reign O’er Me” The Who
3
“Uncontrollable Urge” DEVO
4
“I Heard It Through The Grapevine” The Who
5
“Kill Yr. Idols” Sonic Youth
6
“99 Luftballons” Nena
7
“ワインレッドの心” Anzen Chitai
8
“The Man Who Sold The World” Nirvana
9
“The Sadman” Slowdive
10
“明天还给我” Ai Weiwei
11
“Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene” Hozier
12
“Happy” Mitski
13
“SUMMER” Brockhampton
14
“Sober to Death” Car Seat Headrest
15
“Egotrip” Therapie TAXI
16
“Kick In the World” harunemuri
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