I know I said I wouldn't write magic anymore, but

I didn't promise. I really didn't.

*

"So he carved every single memory he had of her into the block of Silverinh ice because he knew that in the blood-red, everlasting winter of his painful longing, it would last. Now, look at it, if you will. See it, if you could. It was as if the autumn itself had lent his pain the colour. And you know, that even the least learned of people knows, that a colour the Autumn bestowed upon the breaking of any person of her choice, does not drain off just because his carving of the Silverinh ice melted into the waking of the Summer," she explained in between coughs. In her voice were years and years of her own painful longing and ice-cold anger.

In her eyes were ripples of a broken heart and a lost soul, and as she stole a look through mine, she showed me the Silverinh lady whom her great-grandfather carved from the memories of his lost beloved. "A hundred Summers came, Nani. The Autumn did not leave his body, his pain, his longing. And right now as it should, his heart beats in her. Listen to it."

*

But I had also given up the state of being captivated by the world of magic I tried to create because I don't want to lose sight of the one I already have; my family.

*

One of my students said jokingly to her friends, 'Sepet sey mata aku. I should get a plastic surgery.'

But one of them totally missed it and said, 'Beb, we're going green. Nobody does plastic anymore.'

*

I happen to be Asian, so I listen to Asian music. That shouldn't be a problem. Shouldn't be your problem.