Collection: Highlights

None of his wounds are real. The window panes he smashed hurtling through them, the ceilings that collapsed on his head—they were all virtual. All virtual. All translucent imitations of the real thing.

But so are the streetlamps, the sadness, the light that beams the work of poets and revolutionaries across the world. It’s all real, and yet it isn’t. He’s all real, and yet he’s not. Some days, it’s hard to tell.

'As they hurtled back landward, Jinai leaned at the stern and raised her head to the rain with a screaming laugh. “Look at us go!” she cried. “The Cloudlander is back on the bay!”

And gods, if it didn’t make Anqien’s heart soar to hear that sound. “You’re gonna fall overboard,” they called back.

“And it won’t be the last time!” Jinai shouted to the sky as it was rent by rain, despite Telaki’s protests in their ears.'

Hop and Gloria dated once—or, that was their idea of dating. They were twelve, and they were fools, and it barely lasted the season before they decided they preferred to be best friends.

Then came the gym challenge, like a summer storm through their lives, and they're starting to realise that—like the slow turning of seasons bringing the sure return of spring—they'll always come back to each other in the end.

And as I stand here, the past and the present are blurring. Time is no longer bounded by divisions--and those days are returning again. But somehow, I cannot believe them anymore.

Birthday gift for CrapPishh.