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Statue of


Sally Chao


Literary Awards

Winner or Highly


‘I want to live simply. I want to sit by the window when it rains and read

books I’ll never be tested on. I want to paint because I want to, not because

I’ve got something to prove. I want to listen to my body, fall asleep when the

moon is high and wake up slowly, with no place to rush off to. I want to not

be governed by money or clocks or any of the artificial restraints that

humanity imposes on itself. I just want to be boundless and infinite.’


Each living identity is welcomed into this world, creating a pathway of life from

the moment our eyes witnessed the world. A building. It can be metaphorically

symbolised as the destination to the beginning or end of one’s journey. Although,

journeys are never infinite.

Each inviting, exciting, momentary action and

adventure we proceed into doing does not last forever. We come to find along our

journeys, that we get caught in buildings, between the walls of reality and fantasy.

We triumph, with the thought that our worlds are expanding, although in

actuality, they are only shrinking, until we are suffocated by the walls of reality

that eventually grasp us in despair and whisk us away as if our very existence is

merely just as relevant as a single star billions of light years away in another


Whether you’re born human or animal;

we’re all just a frog in the big city


Sometimes, each emotion we possess expands, multiplies and fills the empty

space of these suffocating walls and we find ourselves arriving at our destined

building before our journey has even departed.

My name is Alfredo.

I’m big; yet small.

I’m rich; yet poor.

I’m lively; yet violent

And I’m pretty; yet ugly.

I’m also a frog.

NewYork City

– the reigning capital of the world. Where questions

are answered, where dreams are capital-ised and where loves are

eternalised; or perished.

The skyline anticipated its stormy awakening as it exhaled a fetid

breeze across the overshadowing expanse of New York City, the air

as crisp as the precisely cut edge of a brand new book that had not

yet touched shelving.