Education

The fans swish in circles speedily. The lights spread out in all directions, contesting both, a small darkness, as well as the sunshine from outside. Rows and columns of benches are bunched together, laid out in a casual but orderly fashion. Pens move in unison to immortalize pieces of information which are disguised as words of wisdom.

The Guru sits behind his large desk and demands respect, claiming tradition. Important knowledges are thrown about; none of them caught. The Guru condescendingly catches an arrogant eye looking at him and dismisses him, citing his presence as the reason behind his apparent failure. Now, the Guru contentedly hears a respectful silence. However, it is only that the discussions have turned into stealthy whispers.

There is something about this place - this room. It reminds me and makes me forget. It nourishes me and yet I am always unhealthy. Something about the cold, casual air in it - the air that I breathe in and somewhat choke on; the air that makes me drowsy.

I take cover in the shade of my classmate sitting in front of me, and go to sleep, because I do not have the courage to walk out of the room.

Amsterdam

On the eve of coldness,

my longing for warmth flickers,

like a little baby fire

- pure in its desire,

gazing at my eyes earnestly,

innocently demanding fulfillment.

My star is indeed fading,

while I continue giving it scientific names.

Even if I deny you,

tell me, before you go,

that it was real, and there's still a chance...