November is wind, wool, and words

November, when the trees suddenly go into silent protest and shed all its leaves. Amsterdam cringe in horror, as the strong wind howls. The whole town fell into grayness, gray gray gray gray. Gloomy gray. Only here and there, the colorful wool shawls dances away with the wind.

And I am wrapped in a blanket, with a cough, enjoying the temporary bliss of the simple comfort of warmth. Words popping in my brain, story flows like a stream, I can even hear the stream. Brush, crayons and canvas will have to wait. Pen and paper are yearning to tell a story.

The story, is not halfway the end, but this is a story that is lovingly craft. It deserves to be touched by time and blooms; not to be rushed, but to be enjoyed. Although in the end, it has to be written.

For now, I will present you with another story. If Drizzela is the one who sobbed in the garden, instead of Cinderella.

Drizella is sobbing in the garden. Her dress is torn here and there. She cannot go to the ball looking like this, and there will be no time to fix the dress. Desperate and losing her hopes, she sobbed harder. The mice, the dog and the horse can’t do anything except gather around her, in a vain attempt to cheer her up.

“Now now, my child, don’t cry” came a voice, “not all hopes are gone, otherwise, I would not be here”

Drizella lift her head and found a figure surrounded by lights standing in front of her.

“oh!” exclaimed Drizella “You must be..”

“Your fairy Godmother, uh huh” replied the figure kindly. She moved closer to Drizella to observe her.

“Oh my” she said, looking concern. Drizella nodded.

“I know. The dress is ruined. I can’t go to the ball”

“Oh we can fix the dress alright, but I am more concern of your face. It will take more than my magic to fix that.”

“Beside my child, what’s the point? The Prince will be seeing Cinderella anyway, or other beautiful maiden in the court. I suggest you start to lift your head, and, to put it mildly,

suck.it.all.up.”

Indeed, study shows people will prefer in giving donation if the person who ask for it is considerably attractive. Considerably attractive in a sense that it is a an inch away from the society’s mutual agreement of beauty. In my culture, the mutual agreement is a girl with fair skin and silky long black hair. The rest can just straighten their hair and apply numerous amount of whitening cream.

Oh haven’t you heard? Inner beauty is for sucker.