This work is a product of the author’s participation in the Writing Blitz, an event conducted during Treehouse and tStudios Showcase in Recess Week earlier this semester. During the event, writers were invited to try writing in parts of the college that were not typically used for writing either as subjects or spaces of the act.
The last time I sat here,
we were blowing bubbles,
destressing session it was called.
Attempts to conjure jolly phospholipids
met with buoyant incredulity,
probably nuisance to eardrums around.
Penchant for these perpendicular grey blocks,
an infection stealthily transmitted to friends,
unfazed by baffled faces crossed.
I’d race you up,
I’d say before my escape,
my human appendages against your trust in engineered metal.
Climbing down I did not fancy,
bad for my knees I insist,
one friend would agree.
Yet the descent was obligatory,
for the genius’s equipment below
demanded a gravity-bound me.
Upon leaked news of mass evacuation,
lift-wards I leapt before shrieking bells,
record number of smirks in our silver box.
But adrenaline deficiency plagued a trio,
so 21 floors we rocketed,
deserving of commemorative shots.
1 Thru 21,
Could have been just concrete,
could have been just transit,
but for me it was not.
About the Author
Jia Ying is a Life Sciences major who’s unabashedly enthusiastic about watching birds, but also watches other living creatures, including Homo sapiens. She thinks she might be content living in her grandparents’ times, and fancies digging up ancient family trivia.
All images are from Jia Ying’s personal collection.