Inklings 2023

Under the cherry trees’ bubblegum pink blossoms float a springtime breeze, shaking the mountains, clinking the chimes, and waking the squirrels. It is neither too warm nor too cold as the birds chatter in between the leaves and fly from one roof to another, picking up friends as they go. The crystal-blue creek flows through the green and pink terrain, carrying the little orange fish to their destinations. The fountain that spits golden water lives in the center of the plaza, pressing life into each resident’s lungs. Each person passes by and says hello and they always say goodbye when they leave. Each person sits down to start a meal and they always stand up when they are done. Each person closes their eyes when they go to sleep and they always open them when they wake up. Everybody talks, but no one talks about. Everyone eats, but no one eats for. Everyone sleeps, but no one sleeps because. In this village, the roof begins to wear, so the homeowner fixes it, whether it takes a day or ten years. They are not preoccupied with whether they have the money, because money comes and money goes. They go to work every day and come back home. The day begins and ends, and it will begin and end again. A little girl who sells hats comes down from the mountain and sits on a bench in the village of golden water. Beneath the perfect roof, the girl takes off her pale pink hat and talks to the man, the man neither old nor young. “Where are the other children?” the little girl inquires. “There are some children here. But they have never grown up,” states the man, fidgeting with a golden coin in his hand. “That’s a bummer. I wanna grow up,” says the little girl. “Yes, you should. Leave here and grow up. It seems like a nice idea.” “My mother says I must sell her hats, so I walked through the valleys and found this place. I must sell a few hats today, sir.” THE VILLAGE OF GOLDEN WATER Henry Berler ’25 30