Aangi Shah

It is said that history repeats itself; yet perhaps there is a way to start a new trend of peace and communication. 

Hidden behind history’s veil of social crises and upheaval are stories of suffering citizens, conflicting ideologies, and oppressed communities. 

These stories are propagated across countless generations through endless conflict and discrimination, continuously feeding the cycle of division and further conflict. It is said that history repeats itself; yet perhaps there is a way to start a new trend of peace, communication, and, most importantly, unity. 

To understand how best to address divisive social crises, it is important to first examine what causes them. Social crises can be, and have been, caused by a myriad of reasons throughout history. Some causes can’t be controlled, such as natural disasters and epidemics/pandemics, like the recent COVID-19 pandemic and Turkey-Syria earthquakes. Other social crises have been caused by human actions, including economic crises like the great financial crisis of 2008, political crises like the Arab Spring, and disastrous wars. Oftentimes, these crises are connected, one leading to another like falling dominoes. For example, the 2011 Arab Spring, a political crisis caused by corruption and economic stagnation, led to armed rebellion in the countries it affected, including Yemen. In Yemen, war still rages today, where a decimated healthcare system and government has caused fatal cholera outbreaks and high inflation. 

Delving deeper into the causes and effects of social crises, there is an obvious pattern that emerges: uncertainty, fear, and a sense of hopelessness and oppression, leading to social unrest. Regardless of what type of social crisis occurs, these factors are always the agents of division, conflict, and change. Empirical evidence proves this point. Famous social movements like the women’s suffrage movement and civil rights movement were sparked by communities wanting to live freely after generations of oppression. The countless religious and territorial wars throughout history have been caused by opposing ideologies and fear of the other party gaining power. Similarly, pandemics and epidemics cause widespread public fear of disease, leading to uneasiness and chaos. The recent COVID-19 pandemic displays this exact phenomenon; the entire world was forced into a lengthy quarantine marked by panic over basic necessities (like toilet paper), protests, debates over the vaccine, and a state of fatal pandemonium as countries were left shell-shocked by waves of virus variants and high death tolls. 

Eventually, the unrest leads to the questioning and destruction, or sometimes reconstruction, of social policies, practices, and institutions. For example, COVID-19 changed healthcare and the virtual world, the women's suffrage movement ended in women’s rights to vote, and the global financial crisis led to the fall of the Lehman Brothers. In each instance, an inevitable change, whether positive or negative, took place. However, one fact is undeniable: the journey of change in a social crisis is a period of panic and division as society falls into ceaseless internal conflict and seeks stability through suppression. Within this period, families, communities, and countries are torn apart. Perhaps there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel; yet can this light erase the long, dark tunnel that lays behind it? 

In a simple analogy, social crises are like a pendulum. In the beginning, the pendulum is stable. Yet a disturbance causes it to swing uncontrollably, flailing to find equilibrium again. Society is that pendulum, shaken by the fear and conflict of a social crisis, trying to find security and to overcome the two opposing forces. Imagine, now, a hand, suddenly stopping the pendulum and guiding it back to its original place. That hand represents the unity of different people deciding to embrace each other to face and solve the infinite problems that are to come.

Through the study of the root causes of crises, preventative measures promoting societal cohesion can be adopted. One of the primary methods for approaching divisive social crises is fostering open dialogue and communication. Effective communication serves as a bridge to understanding, allowing individuals with differing perspectives to engage in constructive conversations. Local initiatives such as community forums, town hall meetings, and online platforms can provide spaces for diverse voices to be heard, facilitating a deeper understanding of the concerns and experiences of various groups within society. Communication forums and summits created at a larger scale between entities representing marginalized communities, such as those for women, LGBTQIA+, and indigenous people, would help provide fresh perspectives and foster an inclusive society where all voices are heard, while avoiding instability through promoting teamwork. 

Tunisia’s 2013 National Dialogue Quartet is an example of a successful practice of this theory. The country was still shaking from the political revolutions of the 2011 Arab Spring; the Troika government coalition which was in place at the time was quickly losing popularity, while radical political groups were on the verge of violent confrontation. In this pretext, the Tunisian General Labor Union (UGTT) took initiative to form a federation which was soon joined by three other civil society groups: the Tunisian Confederation of Industry, Trade and Handicrafts (UTICA); the Tunisian Human Rights League (LTDH); and the Tunisian Order of Lawyers. They were joined by 21 political parties and were able to negotiate peaceful solutions to the issues at hand. Much of Tunisia’s democratic stability is accredited to the Quartet’s works, a fact affirmed by the Nobel Peace Prize that was bestowed upon them in 2015. 

Education also plays a pivotal role in promoting empathy and understanding. By encouraging an open mindset through educational curriculums and furthering awareness of historical and contemporary social issues, societies can lay the groundwork for more compassionate and informed citizens. Awareness and education also remove stereotypes and stigmas that lead to biases against certain groups. For example, the implementation of a gender-neutral education curriculum in Sweden has played a crucial role in eliminating the influence of gender stereotypes on children. An article published in the Journal of Experimental Child Psychology found children who had experienced gender-neutral pedagogy were less prone to make biased assumptions on the basis of gender, and were more open-minded to playing with other genders. This proves that instilling the cornerstone values of respect and tolerance through a diverse curriculum from a young age will ensure a future filled with collaboration. 

Solutions can’t be simply on an individual or internal community basis. Collaboration channels must also be installed between powerful social institutions such as the government and law enforcement and the people they serve. It is these institutions that can help mediate and prevent social crises. This involves breaking down silos and encouraging partnerships between individuals, community organizations, and governmental bodies. Case studies from successful community engagement projects, such as those addressing urban revitalization or environmental conservation, demonstrate the power of collective action. 

For example, in recent urban design projects, Australian state governments have worked with LGBTQIA+ NGOs to develop infrastructure that shows acceptance and inclusivity for this historically marginalized group, marking the end of an era of discrimination. Dating even further back, in 1996, Boston implemented the Ceasefire program to address a surge in gang violence. Law enforcement, community leaders, and social services collaborated to address the root causes of violence. The program successfully reduced gang-related homicides by fostering trust between communities and law enforcement and providing alternatives to gang involvement. Research conducted by social scientists on community-based problem-solving initiatives highlights the effectiveness of collaborative approaches. By involving diverse stakeholders in the decision-making process, these initiatives not only address immediate concerns but also contribute to the development of a shared sense of responsibility and interconnectedness.

On a larger level, divisive social crises also stem from discrepancies that exist in the workings of these larger social institutions themselves. Policies that perpetuate inequality, discrimination, or exclusion can exacerbate tensions within a society, in addition to policies which continue to benefit the privileged while abusing the poor, leading to economic disruption. Addressing these root causes necessitates a commitment to policy change and reform; the most effective policies are often developed through consultancy with majority stakeholders. Historical examples, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964 in the United States, demonstrates the transformative impact of policy change on societal divisions. The legislation not only addressed discriminatory practices but also laid the foundation for a more inclusive and equitable society. This holds true for any laws that have been made to bring equality to a previously oppressed community in society, and examining successful cases can provide inspiration as to how social crises can be mitigated. 

Ultimately, the questions of crisis, conflict, and division must be addressed at all levels from individuals to governments, and can only be resolved through unity and teamwork. While history has proven social crises to be tumultuous times, taking measures through education, communication, and policy reform can prevent the exacerbation of division, turning social crises into oases of progress. As Abraham Lincoln once said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Similarly, a society plagued with dispute is doomed; but a society bound with unity is destined to flourish. 

“COVID-19 Has Reshaped Healthcare, Allowing More Efficient and Effective Care.” RWJBarnabas Health, 31 Jan. 2022, www.rwjbh.org/blog/2022/january/how-covid-19-is-reshaping-healthcare

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El Armani, Issandr. “Tunisia’s National Dialogue Quartet Set a Powerful Example.” Www.crisisgroup.org, 10 Oct. 2015, www.crisisgroup.org/middle-east-north-africa/north-africa/tunisia/tunisia-s-national-dialogue-quartet-set-powerful-example

King, Brayden G., and Edward J. Carberry. “Movements, Societal Crisis, and Organizational Theory.” Journal of Management Studies, vol. 57, no. 8, Sept. 2020, pp. 1741–45. https://doi.org/10.1111/joms.12624

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Raouf Boucekkine, Rodolphe Desbordes, Paolo Melindi-Ghidi. Social Divisiveness and Conflicts: Grievances Matter!. 2019. https://shs.hal.science/halshs-02044350/document

“SA Parliament to Become Gender Neutral.” The Sydney Morning Herald, www.smh.com.au/national/sa-parliament-to-become-gender-neutral-20230411-p5czhq.html

Shutts, Kristin, et al. “Early Preschool Environments and Gender: Effects of Gender Pedagogy in Sweden.” Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, vol. 162, no. 162, Oct. 2017, pp. 1–17, www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0022096517302692, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2017.04.014

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Aangi Shah examines how education, communication, and policy reform can turn social crises into opportunities for progress.

The Path Paved with Unity

Ayza Afridi

The speed and nature of change is unprecedented. It is no wonder that most of us conflate crisis and change as two sides of the same coin.

Does a crisis cause change or does change cause crisis?

While the concept of change is not unique to our generation, the speed and nature of change is unprecedented. Whether it is technology (considering the sheer pace of development of AI), climate, or health sciences, humanity is changing faster and faster at the same time as the world we live in. This can be described as VUCA (Volatile, Uncertain, Complex and Ambiguous). It is no wonder that most of us conflate crisis and change as two sides of the same coin.

It is true that a crisis is often a catalyst for change (good or bad). A health crisis, for example, can sometimes permanently alter one’s life for the worse; on the other hand, the internet has changed the way we work for the better (think of Zoom and Google), the Great Depression led to fundamental changes in the financial system that led to decades of economic prosperity, and the civil rights movement led to the end of segregation. As Paul Romer said, “A crisis is a terrible thing to waste.”

Conversely, significant change can also lead to a crisis. With the advent of AI, there is fear of mass unemployment in the future. A rapidly changing environment is leading to extreme climates that are causing human catastrophes with each passing season. Winning the lottery (a seemingly happy change of circumstances) can cause a crisis of personality and lead to gambling and other destructive habits. Even simple natural changes such as puberty and moving from middle school to high school is often a precursor to anxiety about personal body shapes, social relationships, and academic prowess.

Heraclitus (an ancient Greek Philosopher) saw change as the fundamental nature of the universe.  His philosophy suggests that change is constant and inevitable, likening life to a river where one never steps in the same water twice. In his view, a crisis could be seen as a moment when the river’s flow becomes turbulent, prompting adaptation and transformation until the next bend in the river. That crisis leads to change which leads to crisis is also implied by Aristotle’s notion of potential and actuality. He argued that everything has the potential to become something else. Change, according to Aristotle, occurs when the potential of something becomes actualized.  In the context of crises, they serve as catalysts where latent potentials are realized by giving birth to change.

However, the notion of a linear cause-effect relationship between crisis and change might be an oversimplification. Instead, they may be parallel streams (to borrow from the imagery of Heraclitus), converging intermittently, influencing each other in intricate and unpredictable ways.

Change doesn’t always arise from crises; sometimes, it emerges from deliberate choices, visionary leadership, or collective aspirations. Learning a new language or skill is a form of change, yet not associated with any crisis. Similarly, many advancements in communication or transport (e.g. the cell phone or airplanes) are not because humanity was facing a crisis but rather a result of human innovation. Some changes are incremental. They happen gradually over time without being directly linked to a crisis. Societal shifts, such as changing attitudes toward certain social issues, often evolve slowly through education, advocacy, and generational shifts. These changes don’t always result from a single crisis but are the culmination of multiple influences over time.

Similarly, crises can occur without directly causing significant change afterward. For example, a natural disaster (tornado or earthquake) may hit a region causing damage; however, the subsequent recovery is aimed to restore life as it was before without any major modifications. In fact, as humans, we try very hard to restore rather than change original structures. Similarly, health epidemics in stable settings don’t lead to or are caused by any significant change. A new virus emerges and is eventually eliminated without any drastic change to the underlying healthcare system (COVID-19 is a recent example). In the world of finance, for example, market crashes emerge due to computer glitches or speculation, but if the existing systems cater to the crash, no fundamental change in regulations or practices takes place. Crises might prompt temporary adjustments without leading to lasting change. For example, during a temporary fuel shortage, individuals might adjust their transportation habits, but once the crisis is resolved, they may revert to their previous behaviors without instituting lasting changes. Many societies and governments try their best to maintain the status quo even in the face of economic or social crisis. The Arab Spring suggested a change in the status quo, yet subsequent years have shown a reversion to similar forms of government in that region.

These examples demonstrate that crises can occur independently of preceding changes and might not always result in substantial changes afterward. While some crises prompt adaptations or short-term adjustments, they don’t always lead to transformative shifts in systems or societal structures, showcasing a separation between crises and the consequential changes that follow.

A useful lens to summarize this conundrum can be that change is a broader concept encompassing various transformations, while a crisis typically refers to a specific, often challenging event or period that disrupts the norm. They can intersect but aren't mutually dependent. Understanding this independence can help navigate and respond to both change and crisis more effectively. Change can prompt adaptation and innovation, leading to progress and improvement. Crisis, however, demands immediate attention and often requires managing unexpected or adverse circumstances without necessarily resulting in long-term change. People can adapt to changes without going through a crisis or use a crisis as a catalyst for change.

My own perspective is best articulated by the author Alvin Toffler: "Change is not merely necessary to life; it is life." As a teenager, I would find life boring to the verge of being pointless unless there wasn’t continual change to look forward to. From graduating each year to a more advanced grade, to being exposed to marginalized children at a refugee camp during a summer internship, change is a constant. However, some of this change comes in the form of a short-term crisis (from finding the right prom dress to my computer crashing during the SAT test . . . gulp!). In the same vein, Toffler’s perspective emphasizes the inherent nature of change as an essential aspect of existence. This idea suggests that change itself is not contingent on crises; instead, it is a fundamental characteristic of life while crises are sporadic moments during life that we need to face with resilience. I cannot wait to wake up to what change tomorrow will bring.

In a KidSpirit Big Question article, teen writer Ayza Afridi weighs whether a crisis causes change or change causes a crisis.

Change and Crisis: A Symbiotic Relationship

Fatima Shafi

Twentieth-century Romania is a dark corner of the world, where electricity is unpredictable, water may or may not be poisoned, and the dreaded Securitate prowls the streets in search of radicalism to weed out from the concrete. 

The people’s voices are muffled, their pleas for help cut short – even if they could speak freely, global superpowers across the sea are too far away to hear them and too preoccupied to care. Whispers of revolution are firewood for the Regime, which is always hungry for more dissidents to punish. One by one, communism is relinquishing its hold on Romania’s neighboring countries, but Nicolae Ceausescu’s dictatorship, slippery as a chameleon, persists in all its authoritarian glory. Romania chokes in the Iron Curtain’s grip. Husbands, wives, sisters, and brothers cannot be trusted: after the global inflation, courtesy of the Cold War, foreign cigarettes have more value than blood. 

“How many Kents will I need to make sure they turn up the gas?” 

This is the world Ruta Sepetys gives her readers a harrowing view of in her novel, I Must Betray You. Written from the perspective of 17-year-old Cristian Florescu, I Must Betray You is a poignant twist on the coming-of age genre, wherein Cristian comes of age in an impending revolution, and finds himself on the front lines. Under the mentorship of his grandfather, he learns to morph his fear and anger into a vision of what Romania once was and what it could be again – a Romania he’s never really seen but longs to live in. A country in which his sister can purchase tampons instead of resorting to old cotton or cheese cloth, and bananas are not a rarity. 

But he can’t let his epiphanies show. The small apartment he shares with his family, one of a  myriad in Bucharest, is undoubtedly bugged, and privacy is a luxury one must stand in queues for. He must navigate through the rivers of trust, love, and betrayal lest he drown in them, like so many desolate Romanians have. He is hesitant to place himself at the forefront and expose himself to the layers of espionage and betrayal within his own community, but also eager to do so, itching to contribute to a cause greater than himself. Regardless of what his desires, though, national insurgency brings with it a sense of immediacy, urgency, and inescapability that Cristian cannot ignore. Rather, it finds him in his own home: 

“I hoped proximity might bring clarity.” 

In a time and place where literature is considered inherently revolutionary – and thus condemnable – it becomes, for Cristian, a source of catharsis. His diary, that he keeps in English, is a damnable portrayal of the hidden face of totalitarianism, which the outside world cannot, or will not see. Sepetys acutely conveys the loneliness, confusion, and rage of a student under the Regime. 

What the reader must acknowledge in Sepetys’s writing style is that she doesn’t overdo it.  The 17-year-old protagonist has the same dreams, desires, and epiphanies as any other 17-year-old in his situation would – he is not wise beyond his years or blessed with spectacular fortitude. This makes the book highly relatable as it expounds upon the power of the students and litterateurs in molding their world. Simultaneously, Sepetys also manages to convey the slow pace at which these  changes take place – so slow, in fact, that it’s hard to see the events unfolding before your eyes until the result becomes visceral. Her ending initially seems disjointed from the rest of the story, almost unsatisfactory, but the reader then realizes the point she is making. Ultimately, the results of resistance may not be seen immediately, maybe not even in one’s lifetime, but they will appear, immortalized, and bound to the heartland. Not all problems will be resolved together, nor will all truths be unearthed in sequence, because the forges of revolution don’t just burn away tyranny – they also, inevitably, steal from their benefactors. There are no happy endings, there is just the contentment that comes with a  fulfillment of purpose. Sepetys says all this in Cristian’s words. 

Cristian’s reality is encapsulated in the title: it is betrayal that urges him on, disillusions him from the realities of his world, and teaches him valuable lessons that contribute to his resistance. But  the pivotal moment in his development as the protagonist is when he is coerced into a role he has always abhorred. One thing that becomes clear to him is that he can trust no one, not even himself. The demarcation between those in power and those subjugated by it is clear, be it through the color of their cars or the brand of cigarettes they use, but there are also those who toe the line, alternating between power and subjugation. They are the informants, and they are everywhere. They may even be in his household. Throughout the course of the story, he realizes that he doesn’t really know his family. His every interaction with them is eclipsed by the omnipresence of the Regime. Even his secrets are not his own, and none are unimportant to the Securitate. None are beyond utilization. 

Cristian’s story is set in a situation that has become all too familiar to the global audience. The novel recalls Ballard’s Neo-Malthusian Billenium – or even modern-day Gaza. This link is particularly profound considering recent international events and the propaganda surrounding them, because Ceausescu’s regime was characterized by propaganda and self-victimization. Sepetys carefully hints that the disinterest of world leaders, and their eagerness to believe Ceausescu’s sugared assurances, are an important reason for the propagation of Romania’s abysmal situation. This book will be particularly enjoyable for teenagers between the ages of 14 and 18, when they have been exposed to enough of the modern world to understand the political forces that shape or disrupt it. I gave it a rating of 4 out of 5. 

I Must Betray You embodies how feeble fear-induced loyalty is – its formidable façade disguises a flickering shadow. The story symbolizes a powerful, inevitable, truth that keeps reiterating  itself: genocide is too big a sin for its perpetrators to be forgiven – and those who were indifferent will also not be spared under history’s scrutinizing eye. The global community may forget, but a motherland, whet with indigenous blood, never will.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Fatima Shafi gives her take on Ruta Sepetys' novel I Must Betray You.

Behind the Iron Curtain

Dylan Zhang

The beauty and sadness of change were hanging in the atmosphere of the University of San Diego as the rising sun foretold the goodbyes to come. 

I could breathe them everywhere on the campus, just like the dry and wet air from the desert and sea I had breathed in the past three weeks since I came to the summer camp.						

The camp, hosted by Areteem Institute, was focused on the topic of mathematics, and it was one which I dreaded, since I held on to the belief that anything educational would be boring and stiff for the summer holidays. In the months leading up to the opening day of camp, I whined and complained, thinking over and over in my head that it would be the worst three weeks of my life. However, in just the three-week period that I spent there, I got to know the 20 or so campers that came from across the states and from countries around the world. There were middle schoolers, high schoolers from freshmen to seniors, and even some elementary school kids. I fell into an ambiguous category, as I had just finished eighth grade and was on my way to my freshman year of high school. This wide distinction amongst the campers there, along with varying personalities, made my time there magical, offering different combinations not only of mathematical numbers but also of thinking and shouting, frustration and excitement, and darkness and light.

However, all magic, no matter how special, must come to an end. Three weeks turned to two, which turned to one, and then the dawn of the last day was quickly upon us. My flight had been delayed, forcing me to be the last person to leave. As I stayed in the common area, saying my goodbyes and seeing campers off, I soon found myself watching the once bustling and noisy dormitory turn into a silent, empty space. I walked through the dorm rooms, hoping to see some resemblance of our time together, but all I saw were bare beds and empty closets, as if the whole camp experience was just a dream. No noise or laughter permeated the rooms, except for the occasional chirping of birds that broke the silence. This realization that I was alone sent me on one last stroll throughout the campus, revisiting places where we ate, where we played, where we studied, where we gathered, to try to relive those moments which were already disappearing fast, like a mirage disseminating into the wind.

As I wandered around restaurants, classrooms, and auditoriums while climbing stairs and trekking on bike paths, I found myself filled with emotions. Despite having only spent three weeks at camp, I was full of nostalgia as I looked upon these now empty places, remembering how my fellow campers and I once laughed and cheered. I headed toward the dining hall where we had most of our meals, and perched by myself on a table, looking around at the other groups of different summer camps that also took place on the campus. I was filled with a longing sadness and melancholy, yet I found myself struck by the strange beauty of being alone while watching the world revolving and changing around me.						

I returned to my dorm room for the final time, to collect my luggage and make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. The stillness of the air was so strange, yet so calming at the same time, tinged with the bittersweet feeling of moving on. Looking around for the last time, the dormitory area was spotless, cleaned and tidied up by the staff, with no hint whatsoever that my fellow campers and I had once lived here and called this space our home.

As I got into the Uber and glanced back, the realization that this wasn’t just the end of my summer camp, but of the end of my preteen youth, hit me. The laughter with my bunkmates was forever gone, and so were those days of playing all day, without any care in the world, with my fellow students. From now on, I would need to take studies and extracurriculars seriously, worrying about my GPA and even the college application coming in three years. I told myself, if I wanted to succeed, I would have to embrace a mindset of diligent study and grueling training. But at this very moment, the thought of never seeing the people with whom I had bonded so closely and the feeling that one chapter of my life had closed permanently overwhelmed me nevertheless. Change is always happening — but by the time I realized it, it was already too late to stop it. The process of embracing this fundamental aspect of life, no matter how bitter or sweet it may be, was embedded within me on this very departure day. Some of the most impactful and memorable events in our lives are also the most fleeting ones. There always comes the time when change is unstoppable, a time when one must let go and embrace the transition, a time when one must look towards the future. Dreading it won’t do any good. At the same time, the importance of cherishing the moments I had with friends will forever remain on my mind.

Walking to the airport and getting on the plane, my mind was clear and my conscience free, leaving only the bittersweet memories of my experience at Areteem summer camp. As I watched the world fly by, a faint excitement filled my heart as I considered the start of a new phase of my life. With the lessons I learned, I wondered where I would go, who I would meet, and what I would do. Yet the challenge of the new and unknown emboldened me all the more to move on. Then, I headed home toward North Carolina.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Dylan Zhang reflects on a meaningful experience at math camp.

Air of Youth

Henvi Patel

In the tapestry of life, sometimes we find ourselves unraveling in unfamiliar landscapes, struggling to weave our threads into the fabric of a new reality. 

Such was my journey from the sun-kissed landscapes of South Africa to the vibrant mosaic of India. Little did I anticipate the challenges that awaited me, nor could I fathom the transformative power of a helping hand that would guide me through the labyrinth of adjustment.

For 15 years, I basked in the beauty of South Africa, surrounded by cherished friends, a picturesque home, and what felt like a perfect life. Embracing my Indian and South African roots, I cherished the varied landscapes of my homeland. But then, everything changed. At just 15, my family decided to move to India for good, fearing the looming threat of crime. In an instant, my world crumbled, and the comforts of home slipped away into the past.

The first few weeks in India felt like navigating an intricate maze, each twist and turn posing a new challenge. As the novelty of the bustling streets of Ahmedabad replaced the familiarity of my South African hometown, I found myself grappling with the stark differences in culture, language, and lifestyle. The warmth of the people was palpable, but I felt like a stranger in a foreign land, a sense of homesickness gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.

The abrupt shift in school curriculums and syllabi proved to be a formidable challenge. From being a top achiever in South Africa, I found myself barely managing to just pass exams. My once vibrant and sociable persona now morphed into someone uptight and easily irritated. The language barrier added another layer of difficulty, as my South African accent became a source of amusement for some, further isolating me in this new world.

Amid the chaos, a glimmer of hope appeared in the form of a friend at school, Pooja. She extended her guidance with a warmth that transcended words. She was not just a classmate but a confidante who understood the struggles I faced. One day, she took me on my first metro ride, patiently explaining the intricacies of the system and alleviating my fears of getting lost in the labyrinthine stations. The rhythmic clatter of the train became a comforting melody, a soundtrack to my newfound sense of belonging.

In the world of chemistry jargon, she became my translator and motivator. Even though she was not an expert, her unwavering encouragement and refusal to let me give up hope transformed the daunting equations into solvable puzzles. Her guidance was a lifeline, pulling me out of an academic abyss and restoring a sense of competence and understanding.

Pooja became more than just a guide; she became the architect of my revival. She helped me rediscover the person I once was – outgoing, responsible, and unafraid of the unknown. Her hands held mine, not just metaphorically, but literally, as she guided me across the streets of Ahmedabad, showing me the art of hailing fair-priced rickshaw rides instead of overpriced Ubers.

Her impact went beyond the practicalities of daily life. She taught me the ways of India with patience and understanding, sharing the cultural complexities that transformed the unfamiliar into the familiar. Through her eyes, I saw the beauty in the chaos, the richness in diversity, and the warmth in the hearts of the people around me.

In the mosaic of our friendship, I found not only a guide but a true companion who helped me navigate the labyrinth of change. Her help became a bridge between the person I was and the person I needed to become in this new chapter of my life. The laughter we shared, the challenges we conquered, and the moments of vulnerability we embraced all wove together into a narrative of resilience, friendship, and personal growth.

As I look back on the chapters of my journey, the invaluable lesson resonates – the importance of having a friend to lean on and, in turn, being one whenever possible. The significance of mutual support became evident, a realization that the strength of a community lies in the collective embrace of its members. In the dance of life, we are not solo performers but part of a grand ensemble where each kind act contributes to the harmony of existence.

With a heart full of gratitude and a spirit rekindled, I recall the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The only way to have a friend is to be one." In the symphony of life, the melody of friendship and the selfless acts that accompany it are the notes that elevate our day-to-day living, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Pooja played the lead melody, orchestrating a harmonious blend of friendship, guidance, and compassion that echoed through the corridors of my heart.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Henvi Patel shares how a new friend helped her adjust to a new home.

Rediscovering Home in India

Maria Basovska

Even with the best of intentions, actually making behavioral changes can be a slow and laborious process. Change is rarely a straight line. The process of change is littered with ups and downs, jumps forward and backwards, and motivational waxing and waning. Alterations can be long and evolutionary or rapid and revolutionary. Change is not possible without an idea, just as it is not possible without a tool. But who can influence change, and how?

First of all, human participation is essential in the implementation of any change. People are constantly changing, gaining new experience and knowledge. Society and the individual are interdependent, so changes in individual views stimulate the process of social transformation. And vice versa: social changes can contribute to internal ones. Moreover, the motivation for positive social and internal changes usually coincides. The cause of these changes can stem from new knowledge and experiences superimposed on the cultural context, from social or personal values, or from dissatisfaction with a situation.

Culture is represented by a combination of factors, including: knowledge, norms, skills, ideals, patterns of activity and behavior, ideas, hypotheses, beliefs, goals, and values. People are proud of their cultural heritage, and they protect it while trying to make it a living element of social life.

A characteristic feature of Ukrainian culture is its openness and stability, the ability to perceive and adapt to various influences. We have a lot of social movements formed by people who are dissatisfied with their lives and have a desire to solve this problem by working toward  a common goal. Over the past seven years, cultural projects have strengthened Ukrainian civic identity, and have more clearly drawn Ukraine's borders on world maps. There were many discussions about what we wanted to do, how we should serve society, and what changes we wanted to achieve. Thanks to this, during our history, Ukrainian culture was twice able to be revived. We know how to survive changes because Ukrainian culture has this ability to adapt, but the question arises: how do we relate to these changes — whether they are negative or positive — and how flexible is our culture? Is it open to these changes, or do we not want to shift from tradition?

The development of Ukrainian culture was negatively affected by the absence of its own statehood, which would have facilitated a unified national policy in the field of culture. In the conditions of colonial dependence (from Poland, the Russian Empire, and the USSR), the creative spirit and identity of the nation were restrained, and cultural processes were inhibited or became impossible. Ukrainian society experienced fundamental changes in history and culture after becoming a separate state in 1991. Its powerful potential started to grow and its effective energy resources and progress continuously inspired our nation to further struggle nowadays. After the full-scale invasion of the Russian Federation on February 24, 2022, Ukrainians all over the world joined up to protect our identity. We started to speak our own language with some pride, and wore our national clothes more. 

Due to my personal experience, I can say that Ukrainian culture is open to changes. I had to move from my hometown to the west of the country because of the full-scale invasion. There are some stereotypes that people from the western regions of Ukraine are too conservative and do not tend to pursue changes. However, living here showed me that these citizens are hospitable to refugees from the east. They bring some changes to their usual habitat in this way. People are helping each other and are likely to accept positive changes.

The basis of all change in culture is the spiritual needs of the citizens. Internal and social changes constantly stimulate each other. This is an endless, immeasurable, multi-vector movement that develops our society and ourselves. However, unfortunately, many are guided by the thought "I will not change anything," or "my vote will not change anything.” Millions of people who can make change in society give up the opportunity without even trying. As sociologists found out, Ukrainians have different perceptions of the changes that took place after the collapse of the USSR. The vast minority of people unquestionably welcomed these changes, considering them progressive, despite the difficulties and shortcomings. There was a relatively small number of people who believed that there was no need for any fundamental change and that it was not necessary to improve the existing order of life at that time. And finally, the majority believed that these changes were necessary, although not at such a price.

Ukrainian society is currently in the opposite of the democratic "corner" — upholding the values of preservation and self-affirmation, traditionalism and survival. The society is dominated by values related to basic needs: a high level of adaptability,  a constant lack of security, a persistent search for sources of security, protest actions, (although the discourse of "dissatisfaction" is a permanent state), normalization of low standards of living, social irritation at the presence of attributes of quality of life in others, a normalized state of constant stress and demoralization, mental exhaustion, and orientation to self-interest as opposed to orientation to common interest. Ukrainian society is characterized by conservatism — i.e. the way things were before is considered “correct” — and changes and innovations are perceived with caution, often as a potential source of new danger. The long stay in a state of threat, as well as the long-term absence of its own statehood in the past, has led to the fact that the society treats state institutions with distrust and fear and probably still does not understand how to treat them.

In conclusion, Ukrainian culture is capable of adaptation — it developed under the influence of at least four other cultures(Russian, Polish, Belorussian and Hungarian), in the territories of many different states, and, it would seem, should be open to change. But there is a thin line between the culture of the nation and the society itself, which directly experienced those changes under the influence of which the culture changed. You can see this difference between attitudes to change between generations — older people tend to be more conservative, while younger people welcome change. Therefore, it cannot be said that Ukrainian culture has a negative attitude to change, otherwise people would not have called on others to change there would not have been changes in power, and we would not have come to where we are now — an independent country with a separate culture. Ukrainians constantly want changes for the better, they are open to them, our culture and our society are flexible for this, but many years in the Soviet Union influenced the understanding of "change" in the older generation, who lived a significant part of their life in those times and remember them positively. But even these people, despite their conservatism, are ready to accept changes when they are really needed.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Maria Basovska explains how Ukrainians have adapted to political and cultural changes throughout the centuries. i

Ukrainians and the Changes We Face Today

Richard Siyi HE

Home is where people belong. It makes us emotionally attached to the things around our home, and when we see them, we feel a sense of belonging. Nevertheless, it is also because we are too familiar with them that we often forget to make conversations with these "old friends." Thinking of this, I stop and linger under the two tall Japanese cherry trees outside of the door. In the mottled shadows of branches and leaves, I begin a story with my closest “tree friends” and search for the traces of spring with them. On this beautiful day, a period of common yearning and longing between man and nature begins. 

Willow catkins fall like snowflakes, some hanging on green leaves, as if a thin veil covers the cherry blossom trees. I stand under the tree and look up, the sunlight shining through the branches and onto my body. The buttons on my clothes radiate the sunlight. I follow the light and find that it is reflected subsequently by a piece of medicine foil on the ground with the tree’s inverted image on it. I bend down to pick it up and put it on a conspicuous branch that has just sprouted, to let it be held by two small gray buds. A few days later, the medicine foil is gone. Although I am not sure if it has been taken back by its owner, I am relieved to see a few green leaves popping up next to the two buds, wrapping the buds like gentle hands. 

Time seems to pass slowly. Spring is so short, but the cherry blossom trees do not seem to grow. There are always a few small green lantern-like new leaves, always so green, leaving me disappointed every time I pass by with an eagerness to find some new signs. When I happen to see a few children running by, I realize that I was once that young too, and the branches were just above the tips of my hair at that time . . . Yes! The trees have grown much taller along with me. The changes may not be so obvious in a day, a month, or a year, but the accumulation over time can be remarkable. It feels like yesterday that I was still in elementary school, and now my junior high school life has passed. At this moment, I really want time to stay still, let spring pause and those little shoots never grow into branches, but time seems to pass faster and faster . . .

The cherry blossom trees are enjoying their most delicate time of the year. Thousands of pink and white bow ties adorn them with the gentle touch of the breeze. I walk by, and the other pedestrians around walk by. How can we not notice them! The fragrance that fills the air attracts curious glances from dozens of meters away. They keep swaying and stretching. Get closer and close your eyes . . . a faint humming sound echoes in your ears. The pride of their blossoms can be sensed just by hearing and smelling.

How can this place of purity not make people stop and linger? Whenever the noise of the bustling traffic becomes overwhelming, the pink petals can always touch your softest state of mind, making you feel at ease in an instant. No matter how many troubles you had before, by passing them you will temporarily let go of everything, realizing the beauty of life and becoming intoxicated by them...

I gather many cherry blossom petals from the ground. Despite their having reached the end of their lives, being abandoned, withered, trampled, crushed, and ultimately fading into eternal slumber, I yearn to keep this spring forever. 

Upon arriving home, the petals have begun to darken and wilt due to the separation from their source of life. I immediately fill a bowl with water. As the petals are immersed in the water, bubbles eagerly rush up to envelop them and momentarily restore their vitality. I mix glue with some alcohol, then find a chic little box, pour some glue into the bottom, put a layer of petals and repeat the process . . . In this way, spring has been retained forever, regardless of the cold and warmth of the outside world.

I scatter the rest of the petals into the flower pot, like a thin layer of dyed silk covering the dark soil. They will gradually decay and merge with the soil. The curious cat also sniffs with its nose, as if enjoying the lingering fragrance. 

Every petal will be forgotten, even with my cherishing and collecting, which is a whim after all, and will eventually fade away. But they have been in the world, and have embodied value. The disappearance further highlights the beauty and preciousness of their blossom. I write them into this note to appreciate them and hope that the cherry blossoms will still be in their prime tomorrow morning. 

It is another day of yellow sand filling the sky. I cover my mouth tightly with a mask and turn my back to the wind, but the tiny grains of sand still find their way into the crevices of my clothes, constantly scraping against my skin. I anxiously glance toward the cherry blossom trees and, through the haze, I see the sand hitting the petals and the branches swaying. The sun’s rays scattering downward have turned orange-red, intertwining with the pink of the cherry blossoms, but it isn’t long before yellow engulfs everything. 

When I go to see them again in the afternoon after the storm has cleared up, I expect the petals and buds to have fallen off, but instead find that they have grown stronger, only covered by a layer of dust. Especially in the center of the stamen where sand and dust have gathered, like a small hourglass. I long for a gust of wind to blow away all the sand obscuring their beauty, but they just stand there quietly. 

I accidentally inhale a bit of dust and sneeze, "achoo." To my surprise, I blow away the sand on a flower bud, and she looks even more delicate and charming. 

With blooming comes withering. After a flash of brilliance, night falls and the lights from the towering buildings, like cherry blossoms, form clusters and forests, becoming the victors that replace the proud posture of the cherry blossom trees. They do not hasten to grow leaves, but strive to ensure that even the last flower blooms perfectly; they persist in growing branches, preparing for the heavy task of awakening again after resting. Before long, the “cherry blossoms” on top of and beside them in the buildings bloom again. Although these "cherry blossoms" are so dazzling, how could they compare to the trees’ once-a-year bloom with all their strength? They are finally engulfed in darkness but stand upright and persistent. 

"With a graceful dance, I took away the unruliness, and brought back nostalgia," said the Inawa God "Kiya Kaihanahime," roaming Japan. Departing from Okinawa, she scattered cherry blossom petals along the way, so she is also known as "March Yukihime." I also wish that a savior could enter the world where I am and bring March snow to me and those around me. But who is willing to be the one to redeem others? Because in the end, isn’t she the one who is left bruised and lacerated all over? Yes, looking down at the cherry tree trunk full of deep cracks, white frost, and thick juice seeping out from the layers of cracks. With a gentle touch, it flakes off like an old wall that has been weathered by wind and rain. The vermilion new skin on the inner layer slowly emerges as they are constantly tinkering with herself. Alas! In the end, Yukihime's martyrdom for the death of her beloved suddenly reminds me that when I first moved here, there was actually another tree next to the flower bed to the right of these two cherry trees. But after it died from illness, weeds gradually thrived. I already know that the trees won't follow along with me, so I leave my heart there. 

As soon as I step out of the house, unexpectedly, the wind is swept by the heat wave and slaps all over my body, making me feel uncomfortable. I use my hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun in the clear sky and barely see the scorched leaves. When I open the clusters of wrapped leaves, I find that there are bright yellow new leaves in the center, surrounded by the fiery red cracks of the old leaves. Whenever the wind blows, the trees look like they are burning. 

Spring in Beijing is too short. The howling cold wind that seemed to still be present when I started observing has transformed into the chirping of birds. The trees are trying to make up for all the losses of the full blooms following the severe winter and to allow the leaves to suck as much sunlight as possible. They are undoubtedly grateful for spring, but they don’t dwell on it at all. They are willing to embrace any season, just like me. Looking at each other, we empathize. Even though the flowers have withered and the scorching heat will give way to the cold winter, we still do not cling to spring. Indeed, from their healed cracks and wounds, the branches that have been baptized by wind and rain, and the leaves that have begun to burn passionately, they are all already foreshadowing - after the blooming of spring, they will be able to face everything more tenaciously. Last year’s fallen leaves have turned into spring mud to continue nourishing them, and they understand that everything yet to come will sooner or later become a thing of the past. The trees and I share common memories of the past and have boundless expectations for the unknown tomorrow. We can only choose to look forward.

Seeking spring on fine spring days. From blooming to full of new leaves, the trees are the creators of fine days. I will continue to pass by these creators every time I go out in the future, and each passing will become the past and also an expectation for the next time. 

The spring breeze leads me forward. When I finally take a hurried look back, I can only vaguely hear the chirping of summer cicadas. On this fine day, I find spring and also a common vision for the future with the cherry blossoms. 

In a KidSpirit Fiction piece, teen writer Richard Siyi HE greets the cherry blossom trees in Beijing and evokes the transitory nature of spring.

A Spring Diary

Ethel Harris

Her heart, once pure, now narrates tales in red,
In the night’s silence, through shadows it is spread.

Near the campfire, we gathered to hear,
Awaiting her history, a story severe.
Ears attentive, minds eager, and eyes wide
As flashbacks revealed a stormy tide.

Two decades ago, her children in discord
Fighting each other, with no accord
“When will this end?” she wondered
Her population diminishing, with more plunder.

The crisis expanded, lives were lost,
In time activists arose, no matter the cost
Women stood resilient, as men took the lead
Roles shifted in the time of need.

Christian and Muslim women united
Inspiring efforts, a brave fight.
Now, she finds peace, her heart at ease
A reflection of hope in the midst of memories.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Ethel Harris brings to life Leymah Gbowee's heroic struggle for peace in Liberia. 

Echoes of Resilience: A Journey to Peace

Avishi Gurnani

Differences accepted. 
Friends around every corner. 
Holding a belonging
To this new world. Every grain,
A pillar to support this journey.
From reticence to expression.
Urge to return the debt of kindness.
Love, that had been lent.
Today, a part of this island.
Tomorrow, a fraction of its proud past.
A heart filled with thoughts, a mind with overflowing feelings
Longing to merge, to make, to stay, to sense, to see
Us, a community
Proud of the past, 
Fostering the future
Sublime, the goals of a lifetime
This can’t succeed solitarily
Our strength, specks in space
Together, our power,
Greater than one alone can ever be
Us, a community.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Avishi Gurnani imagines a future of unity.

Us, a Community of Change

Jude Sheriff

It’s not too late,
But I guess it’s all up for debate.
Sitting in a park with your best mate,
You’ve got no idea what’s stored in fate.

It’s not too late,
Though not much will change,
All we can do is rearrange.
What they've done is in the past,
We got the opportunity to change fast.

It’s not too late,
What people do is not all hate.
Come on, let’s change the date,
We’re heroes! We don’t need a cape.

What are you waiting for? We could do this now,
Let’s wipe the sweat off our brow.
For we need to save the Anoa cow,
And all those that judged will finally say WOW.

It’s not too late,                                                                    
I hope this informed you and your mate
And convinced you to pick up your waste,
So we are prepared for anything to face.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Jude Sheriff asks us to take control of our own fate.

Not Too Late

Maha Shamsi

In the crucible of crisis, shadows cast,  
A turbulent dance where echoes of violence blast.  
Change emerges, a tempestuous tide,  
Yet within this chaos, compassion abides.  

A world gripped by the clutches of strife,  
Seeds of transformation amid the discord rife.  
Violence, a tempest tearing seams,  
Change, the architect of shattered dreams.  

Beneath the storm, resilience is born,  
In the face of brutality, a new morn.  
Crisis, a canvas for change's decree,  
Yet violence dissolves in empathy's sea.  

The human spirit, a force untamed,  
Rising from ashes where darkness once claimed.  
In the crucible, society rearranges,  
Crafting hope from the anvil of changes.  

Let’s not let violence dictate destiny's scroll,  
For in crisis, seeds of empathy take hold.  
Change, a sculptor of a world reborn,  
Where love prevails, and peace is sworn. 

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Maha Shamsi highlights the beautiful growth that can come from crisis. 

Crucible of Crisis

Judy Liu

“Enough of me obeying you!” Jason heard as he stepped in the door. Maintaining a dangerous balance on one foot, he wanted to put on his shoes again and run as far as possible.

His wife, Melissa, did not think so. She slammed the door and burst into Jason’s face. “I am busy, you cannot just blame me for it! Aren’t you Selina’s father?”

Jason felt tired. “Ok, it’s my fault again, may I just go?” Without waiting for a reply, he took off his shoes and stormed into his room. 

He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands. “If the woman would listen to me once and spend more time at home,” he thought, “Selina would get better grades.”

No footsteps; maybe she also went back into her room. Jason walked out and knocked at Selina’s door. “Time to chat, Selina! Since your mother does not want to take any responsibility, I will talk to you about your math.” 

Jason knocked on the door again. He opened Selina’s room. His daughter sat at the table, head half-buried in her arms and eyes closed, with a peaceful look almost like a smile on her face. It seemed like a nap over studying. 

He tapped Selina on her shoulder and spoke quietly. 

Then his voice became louder and louder, but Selina would not wake.

A gentle breeze was tapping her face. She found herself lying on soft grass, with colorful flowers blooming here and there. Butterflies danced around like dressed fairies, and fair sounds like birds singing mildly entered her ears. She could not remember how she got here.

Selina stood up and found herself in a wool dress. She tried to walk, then faster and faster, and at last started to run. There were no trees on the ample land, only endless grass of light green. A vague yet sweet happiness existed in every breath of air, from which people with the deepest inner sin would feel relaxed.

She noticed some figures on the grass. They appeared to be men and women wearing wool dresses like hers, hand knitted, dancing around a lone tree. Selina watched as another girl suddenly approached and took her hand. “Come and join the party of love and happiness!” she cried cheerfully, with a big smile on her face. 

Selina looked around and saw other people in the same manner. She opened her mouth to speak: “Where am I — " 

“Shhh!” The girl covered Selina’s mouth. “We do not think. We just dance around until we forget all the unhappiness.”

It was not a tree, but a high pile of grass bundled together.

Jason called Melissa. They placed Selina onto her bed. Apart from her peaceful look, Selina’s body was cold and numb. Fear rose inside his heart.

The doctor’s expression turned strange and uncertain. “You know, madam? Maybe it is the dream crisis.” 

“A spreading pandemic. The patients sleep and will not wake up. Their bodies get numb — yet they maintain their breath and physical health. No one knows how to wake them up. Many people in our town, especially teenagers, are infected, including the boy living next to you.”

Jason and Melissa had their dinner. Awkwardly, since Jason could notremember the last time they peacefully had a meal together without Selina. 

Silence remained. Jason put another spoon of soup into his mouth, without finding any flavor. 

Melissa stood up. “I need to go and write.” She went back into her room. 

Jason swallowed another spoonful of soup. Mushroom, he noticed. It was the soup he had cooked on Valentine's Day years before.

The young husband nervously knocked and opened the young wife’s door. “Do you want a bowl of soup?”

“Thanks, I love you.” The young wife was writing with her pen at a crazy speed and seemed too busy to take a look. “Help take care of Selina, will you, my dear?”

The husband put the bowl of soup next to her desk. 

“I forgot, your writing day,” he murmured, “but I was just called to work.”

“You are her mother and she likes your music and poetry stuff better.”

The wife threw down her pen. “So you know that you are never good at taking care of her? Then try to learn! Don’t leave it to me.”

The husband’s good mood was in ruins. “Where I come from, if a woman stays at home and does not bring money back, she at least takes care of the child.” 

The husband turned away, and by pure accident, the hem of his clothes knocked over the soup. Milk-white, tempting-flavored soup with fresh mushrooms spilled over the scripts on the table, turning neat handwriting into unrecognizable dots. Melissa screamed. 

“They are just useless papers anyway,” said Jason.

Melissa’s face turned bright red. “I’m a writer. I thought you were at least literate enough to know it.” She raised her hand, about to slap. Jason had already turned for another escape, when both of them stopped.

Little Selina stood in the doorway. In the silence of her parents, she walked into the room and picked up the broken pieces of the bowl.

Jason tried to lie on the sofa but felt completely awake. He decided to take a walk. 

Without his noticing, his feet brought him to a small lake. By the dim moonlight, the clear surface of the water shone mysteriously. He saw his own shadow being transformed into some simple geometrical figures; the shadow of the sky and the clouds, forming a murky yet tempting world that he could never understand. 

He saw another shadow. It was twisted by a stream of water into a monstrous figure. A voice, surprisingly similar to his own, came with the cold breeze: “Jason?”

Jason turned and saw a man of his age and his form. A tall and thin man, yet with a sense of stubbornness and control in the way he looked and spoke. 

“I heard that your daughter got infected, I’m sorry.” Jack looked also at the lake’s surface but soon turned away. “So did my boy.”

“I hope we will all wake up — I mean, they,” Jason said dryly. “Jack, do you know the reason or treatment of this — ” 

“I heard a rumor, or merely nonsense.” Jack’s face twisted, showing his disgust toward the “nonsense.”

“They say you need to find the foreigner in the town bar and buy him a cup of wine. He will tell you something like soul treatment.” Jack’s facial expression showed his attitude toward this solution. “I would rather wait. My son is perfectly fine.” 

Jason walked home. He sat down heavily on the sofa and wondered about the meaning of Jack’s words. “Find the stranger at the town bar and buy him a drink . . . soul treatment?” Nonsense indeed. He stopped thinking and tried to sleep.

A weak squeezing sound gently drilled into his ears. Once, twice, for the third time, Jason could not stand it anymore. He remembered grabbing all the house rats from the rooms of his brothers at the yelling of his father, hearing their sneer. I thought I got rid of rats years ago, but eventually, they  came. He walked around and found the sound coming from Melissa’s bedroom.

Quietly he opened the door. He saw Melissa crying. “It’s our fault.” 

“There is a way to save Selina,” he heard himself begin.

Selina joined their dance. Though happy at first, it soon became strange. Everyone was smiling too brightly. 

A man claimed to hear music from heaven, but Selina could only hear vague noises. The food tasted too vague to be described as sweet or salty.

“Isn’t it great?” said the surroundings. Selina could not answer. She walked away.

The light did not consist of color, she noticed. There was no sun. She looked around and found her vision more blurred.

“You look confused. Why not come for some love?” an old voice rang in her ears. She turned around and noticed a gigantic label “Selling Love” over wooden stands and canvases. Some people, also in wool dresses, were busy drawing. They looked so urgent, as if their souls were trapped inside the canvas. 

She saw some paintings hanging near the label. The fuzziest one had a familiar beautiful young woman in a bright yellow dress, squatting near the sea. As she walked closer its color suddenly disappeared.

“I know you will come, my girl.” The old man smiled encouragingly. “No need to worry about that painting. The poor and sinful man will also come.”

“Why are you standing there? You must be tired after a long journey.” He then said, “Pick a canvas and draw your love. They will appear even if they did not throughout your life.” 

It suddenly reminded Selina of herself, bringing a whole semester of 100-mark math homework to her parents, but only being asked again if she loved her father or mother, with both of them looking bright red. She acted like a cheerful girl before having to run back to her room. 

“There is no paintbrush, nor pigment.”

The old man smiled even more kindly. “That’s the secret of love. You draw with your soul.”

“I shall go and see how others draw,” she murmured. 

A young woman was happily drawing with her arm. A little boy’s face appeared on the canvas. Selina suddenly saw the lady’s right arm was much shorter than her left. As she watched, it became even shorter.

“Lady, your arm is fading away.” She could not remain silent anymore. 

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