dive in
There are several voices discombobulated in my head.
Each one of them has a different opinion - all so
jarringly opposed to one another yet all singularly
adamant. I've learned to reduce them to a mass of
lulling sounds, and at their various pitches I figured I
could make it my own personal symphony.
On bad days I like to visit my neighbourhood
swimming pool. The exterior sounds of children
splashing in the water, flip-flops slapping the tiles and
echoes of senseless interactions tend to muffle
themselves and mix with my internal choir. It's a good
distraction.
People rarely attempt to use the diving board because
most of the visitors are children or teenagers learning
how to swim; with their parents, guardians and
swimming instructors of course, but I don't think
they'll dive for sport.
issue 01 | chen yi an