change is colorless and odorless. it is between an inhale and an exhale. it makes and breaks, builds and demolishes, creates and destroys. not always visible, it is sensible, perceptible. it is seen by patient eyes, yet is apparent to all; some capture it, others miss it. it frees some elements, and captivates others. it is not static, but perpetual. sometimes smart enough to look random, other times simple enough to give its secrets away. change is evolution and elevation; it is about revolution. it interweaves the future and the past. it dedicates depth to moments, makes every instant priceless. it can seem subtle or obvious, but is always prominent. change liberates and uncovers, expands, experiments and ventures. it challenges, risks, fails or wins, falls or rises. it is the key to survival, the reason for our existence. it is sudden or slow, expected or unexpected, sad or happy; it is the portrayal of life.


"It doesn't taste the same!" I rapidly opened my eyes in the middle of the night, and found my right hand covered with one of my socks. Quickly taking off the sock, I felt calm again sucking my imaginary honey-flavored thumb.

This was not the only trick my hopeless parents had tried to kick their five-year-old daughter's thumb-sucking habit. Bandaging my thumb, trading it with candy, and bribing me with toys were other failed strategies. Not only did I not intent to give up on my enjoyable thumb-sucking moments, I also often wondered how other people could resist this pleasure. My older sister and brother disappointed me multiple times when they refused my offer to try sucking their thumb once just to taste what I tasted. I was about to start school and they suggested that I should hide under the classroom bench or take a break in the middle of the class to fulfill my thumb-sucking desire when I was there.

At a moment when my parents thought they had lost the battle, an image changed everything. I walked into a dentist office for a check-up and my parents desperately complained to the doctor about my habit. The doctor turned at me with a wicked smile and said, "Follow me." I followed, curious as to what he had in store. As we walked into a different room, the tall dentist stopped, stared at me seriously, and pointed at a poster on the wall: "You keep sucking your thumb, and before long I am going to have to install this device into your mouth." I looked up and was horrified at what I saw on the poster: a giant device made with bunch of wires and metal pieces. Thinking back, I am wondering if that poster had anything to do with my infamous habit. Whatever the image was, it ended my whole thumb-sucking love.


It was a usual Monday morning: tiring and tedious. I quickly dressed up, drank a cup of tea, and walked to the bus statin close to my house. The bus came with its usual 5 minutes delay. As I got on the bus, I saw the bus driver and said “hi.” He stared at me with a strange look, trying to figure out what I said, and responded: "ummmm." I didn’t understand what he said but I assumed he said hi back. It was a weird moment but wasn’t a big deal. As I went to teach at 8, I started the class saying “good morning everyone.” all my eight students looked at me with a confused look. One of them started talking, and I realized I didn’t understand a word. I was confused and scared. Looking around the class to see if I am the only one who didn’t understand anything, I realized I was not alone. The students started talking and it seemed like they were all babbeling like a little baby. I walked out of the class, and saw a chaotic scene, everyone was in the hallway babbeling, including a few police officers who were trying to calm people down with their hand gestures. Yes, it was true. We all lost our language ability.

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