The idea of writing a poem on the inside of an envelope — instead of a notebook — seems romantic after binging on fiction and your mind is a thousand miles off land and down with the titanic. Old movies share that same effect, that air of tension and magic in the air that can pull us out of our set notion of time, people and places, leaving traces of only sunken twinkles around our eyes trying to reel out the 3rd dimension of flat-surfaced faces.
It takes a while to recover from reading, or watching a movie. As if escaping reality was more of a burden than a courtesy to eyes that have been taught to mechanically analyze, synthesize, prioritize monotonous words that carry no strings for an easier lift to the mind.
If comics draw us in because we see a figment of ourselves in the simplification, then fiction and poetry must leave enough space to breathe between the valleys of words for us to fill them up with the scent of our bodies or the wrapping of the uncoiled thoughts we leave behind.
How far should our valleys run? Our imagination is boundless. I believe all of us have a wild imagination, but some just have one more tame than others. Our imagination can run to infinity, though all of us prefer a level of simplicity, and that’s when our boundaries come in, to mark the end line — or the “no trespassing” cave — where the wild things are. We all determine how far down our voices can echo — sometimes I know I create a wall at the end of some rented hall, so that hopping back to reality, seems less of a tragedy.
Chloe Barreau is a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore at Chinese International School in Hong Kong. Her work has been published in Scribbles magazine. Apart from being an aspiring poet, Chloe loves working on various art projects and making products for her jewelry company — mugidolls.storenvy.com.