The deft motion of a swirl yields a delicate vortex of pearl that resides in an expanse bound by her consistently polished curves. As the convolutions intensify, the semi-transparentness of black helplessly acquiesces to the rife assimilation of its polar opposite color, reaching a compromise that bears no semblance of their original nature. The waters have thus been muddied. Yet, the affectionate redolence emanated from this tasty beverage brings to mind the resplendence that stems from the harmony of co-existence.
Concomitantly, grains are bound to remain. Each of them is unique and unparalleled. Most are fettered to the base while the more defiant ones in suspension withstand the stir and their natural capitulation of dissolving in. Vexed with the lack of homogeneousness, I churn even more violently, creating a bigger storm in my teacup. Grains that were once part of the layer encrusted on the recesses of the cup surreptitiously fade into oblivion. Those have sadly surrendered themselves. Nevertheless, some have resisted and parted from the raft.
The grains that have triumphed in their endeavours retain their intrinsic and intricate character. Yet, the vast majority constitutes the brilliant aroma and flavour of the drink, albeit deficient in identity. At the end of the day, as one cannot always straddle the fence, of which personified entity would you rather be? The ones that slip into the drink eventually get consumed, while the remnants get washed down the drain.
-Kenneth Wong
