Senior Highly Commended: Chelsia Low, age 14, Singapore
Topic 3. Youth Versus Experience
I first saw them on the corner of 27th Street. It was a Friday evening; there was rain in the air and
grey in the skies. The most unlikely of pairs were walking home, against the metropolitan city
backdrop of skyscrapers and noisy traffic. I watched from above them.
She had caught my eye first. Youth’s hair was a tousled gold, equal parts silk and sunshine. She
belonged in a meadow – not with the dirty city grey. Her green flower dress brushed at her knees,
her vivid yellow rainboots the color of the Chicago taxis. Her eyes were bright, her spirits endless.
She skipped and smiled and sang.
Experience walked beside her, but he couldn’t look any more different. He donned a grey suit
that matched the cheerless sky, his back straighter than a needle, gait full with the purpose of a
determined man. His coat while worn was utterly creaseless, but his hands and face were full of
folds.
They were polar opposites from the same family; together they made steady pace home. It
would be a long journey for them this
Friday evening. It was one I was eager to watch.
~
After five minutes or so observing their uneventful travels, I saw them take a bend. They saw
Love at the street corner. Experience knew Love was a siren, but Youth had been taught that it was a
treasure. He and I both knew how it would end. I watched as Experience tried to grab
Youth, to stop her, but she had rushed forward, and he caught a fistful of nothing but air. He
watched Youth’s foolishness; he watched Love disappear into the air before Youth evened touch
it; he saw Youth fall and scrape her knee trying to hold on to something that had never been meant
to stay.
Experience had been the same way once. You had to stumble to learn, you had to get hurt to
remember.
He walked towards Youth and knelt down, taking out a medical kit to clean her scraped knee.
Experience was nothing if not prepared. You shouldn’t have done that, he wanted to tell her.
You should have known better, he could have said.
1
But the truth was, Youth didn’t know better. Experience’s heart was bruised and battered, his mind
tattooed with unwanted memories, but Youth’s… wasn’t. Her heart was whole, her memories all
pretty. She did not know what it was like to have to glue herself back together when everything had
fallen apart. She didn’t know failure, couldn’t have known guilt. It was this ignorance, or innocence,
that made her so beautiful.
Experience sat down beside her, and let her lean on his wiry frame in a comfortable silence.
When her tears had dried, he picked her up and carried her piggyback as she clung onto his coat.
They walked past streets and alleys, roads and boulevards. They passed by a row of bakeries,
Madeline’s Florist Shop, and plenty of pastel colored shophouses. Experience stopped outside a cafe
to put Youth down, and went in to buy a bar of chocolate.
“Spirit food,” he told her, handing her candy bar. “There are two great things to cure pain, and this is
one of them.”
“What’s the other?” Youth asked.
He looked to the cloudy sky.
“You’ll see.”
Youth quirked but finished her chocolate, and I saw the two of them continue on their journey.
~
It didn’t take long for the rain to fall. First in small pockets around them, then heavier as the pair was
pelted with sheets of rain. Youth’s hair matted along the sides and she laughed at the water. Love,
scraped knee and chocolate bar were long forgotten. No one else could live more in the moment.
She extended her hands and her fingers splayed, catching all the rain I could offer, singing and
spinning like a child on a carousel. The rain relieved her, and she danced to her own music. Since
when did Youth care about the onlookers? Her kneecaps shivered in the cold, but a smile was
plastered on her lips the way her golden hair stuck onto her pale face.
Experienced watched her from under his umbrella almost nostalgically. He walked behind with his
erect posture and the slightest flicker of a smile. He did not celebrate beside her did not open his
fingers to let the water fall between them. Experience was a worrier and a warrior. He was a fighter
not a dreamer; with him, it was “plan for tomorrow” instead of “live like there wouldn’t be a
tomorrow”.
When the rain increased its intensity, his fingers clenched and he pulled his timeworn
And weather beaten coat tighter across his chest. Youth danced with the elements, but Experience
knew only to pick up his pace.
“Alright, Youth, that’s enough,” he whispered with urgency. “Hurry.”
2
~
They reached a carrefour, and the traffic light flaunted a manmade red. Youth tugged on
Experience’s coat sleeve for permission to walk; there were clearly no cars. Other commuters
crossed the junction, with various umbrellas and expressions. Experience didn’t see any of them.
Standing at the edge of the pavement, his eyes flashed, and a painful memory made his jaw tighten
and eyelids squeeze shut. Experience shook his head hard, once, his voice soft but firm.
“We will wait for a green light.”
There was no question, and Experience’s tone sobered Youth as she joined him under his umbrella.
They waited quietly, wet in the pouring rain as the world passed around them.
~
I knew it was the last lap of their long journey; they had come this way before. They would soon
pass by Detractors, men from the infamous clan on the edge of their neighborhood. Men that would
stand on along the roadsides. They would hand out flyers of cynicism and shout words of defeat.
They would slip hatred under doors and leave anger on the pavement for the world to see. I knew
Youth hated walking by them most of all, and she had long stopped her humming.
My rain was letting up, and the clouds had already been wrung dry for the night. The streetlights lit
the road with a mucky glow as the last of sunlight faded.
As they passed the grimy locale, Youth squirmed as she heard the Detractors derision, quickening
with her eyes on the floor and her hands clasped together. Experience was otherwise. Head held
high, his gait never faltered. “Don’t let their doubt eat up your courage”, he whispered to her, “They
hate yours only because they have none of their own.”
~
Night had finally fallen. At long last, Youth and Experience turned into a lane with a small whitewashed house at the end. Youth entered first. Just before Experienced ducked into the door, he
looked up into the sky and straight at me, knowingly. His grey coat flapped in the soft wind.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you too.”
3