chronicles of young

清明时节雨纷纷，路上行人欲断魂。借问酒家何处有？牧童遥指杏花村。  好幽美的几句诗。 <subsequent images taken from the World Press Photo 2016 exhibition, gird yourself > A Slovenian police officer escorts refugees after they crossed from Croatia A strange kind of terrible beauty in this photo also. Ponomarev really composed it so beautifully; the horse bows its head, like how I'd imagine the hearts of the people. Yet the ethereal sunlight shines down on both the horseman and the people. Libyan refugees on an overcrowded dinghy wait as a MSF rescue ship approaches People cross into Turkey through a broken fence, near the official border crossing at Akçakale, Syria I stared at these nameless faces for a long time. And then I saw this. People run from water cannon fired by Turkish soldiers, to keep them away from border fences near Akçakale  And this.  A father cradles his lifeless daughter after a Syrian air raid And this. Adam. 7. Badly burned when bomb dropped by ...

It was just 30 cents but I was so proud to be my Daddy's daughter <3 The girl in front of us was going to not buy the bananas because she didn't have enough money, so my Dad topped up for her :') Just today I was thinking about how my parents have brought us up to be so socially conscious- my mum and I laughed at this bawling kid yesterday, and she shared that we have never made a scene in public like this because there will be severe repercussions. That's right I approve, give no chance. That's why I'm among the stricter teachers in Sunday School. At the same time I thought: Then the experience of grace has worn away the accumulated layers of 恥 ( haji /shame).  Various disparate thoughts. No point trying to weave a common narrative thread. I love how I can still be a kid in my parents' eyes, even as I share some of the family burdens as a young adult now. Sometimes I will just call my mum/dad for no reason, I can still playfully fistbump my dad...