We walk through crowds thicker

Than our skin,

Molecules of all tones and textures,

99 point 9 percent the same.

The lull in our voices,

Estranged ears bridging

Paths across oceans and seas,

Gifting new alphabets to our neighbours.


Fingertips on touch screens

A tap away from Budapest,

Abu Dhabi or Brazzaville.

Our eccentricities mingled,

Soaking in our drinks,

Sprinkled in our plates of food,

Tabled multitude under pub lighting.

A crack in our eggshell heads,

Gaping for all to peak through,

Swirls of all colours,

Where language is but façade.

The secret life of compost: How UBC's closed-loop system tackles food waste

Don’t talk to me about the weather

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