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Leave a Message, by Thanh Dinh

Updated: Oct 26, 2021

When you say it like that, you make it so believable, I say.

I can still remember the scenery.

The sky is blue, the sunlight passes through you, and the faint shadow of summer leaves

make me think that for a moment, perhaps time had stood still

for us, for the youth within us and the youth outside of us.

The world is still young.

When you say it like that, you make it so believable, I say.

Your voice's timbering on the canal of my ears.

The sweet sound of the rain on the tin roof.

I sit inside the house and look out—

the baked earth evaporates into these small fragments of the things I'd lost.

And in this country, you already know that the rain never stops.

On and on, the sweet sound of the rain on the tin roof

has been timbering on the canal of my ears.

When you say it like that, you make it so believable.

That we will have another life.

That we will have time to make up for it, no matter what it is.

That we will have lives.

The world is still young and honey, perhaps we were not made for it.

We were not made to last—no human is.

We were not made to stand still while time is moving on

and trampling all over us.

We were not made to endure the pains and the sufferings.

But on that very night—on the night that separation filled the air,

on the night that the rain ran the air until morning,

on the night where the songs kept playing on repeat,

on the night we learned to lean on a fragile shoulder,

when you say that we will be passing through,

that you will be here, and I will be here,

and for a thousand years,

the waves will not erase what has been carving on the sand—

Your vigor, and the night is still young.

Honey, when you say it like that—

you make it so believable.


Blue sky covered with white and gray clouds over a single large tree
Run, by Angie Ransdell

Thanh Dinh graduated from the University of Toronto with distinction. Although she specialized in business management, her passion for writing and literature can burn down a whole forest. She had joined the Creative Writing Workshop at the University of Toronto and achieved a full grade and recognition from her mentor and professor, Richard Greene. As a literary enthusiast, her reading list spans across the globe, from North America's famous writers like Hemingway and Faulkner to the lesser-known Asian authors like Kenzaburo Oe and Yukio Mishima. Heavily influenced by the poets' tireless search for a cure to solitude, she resorts to solving that question using words and tiny stories to show the beauty of the living world and the scars of life's surviving veterans.


Angie Ransdell has been known as the "annoying old lady with the camera" since she was ten. Always striving to catch and embrace her own emotions, and having a tendency to look up, she finds her best moments in life have been experienced alone.


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