Once upon a time, there was a hole.

Holes are like somebody's deepest darkest secret. No one wants to touch it. No one dares to go near it.

In that colourful history of ours, holes embelish the dull. People acting differently fills the will. What happen to the guy that did not cry on that funeral, or the little boy from class A that did not get 100% for his science paper? Or the teen in black whom make people wonder whether it's a he or a she. The dragonfly that cannot fly. The old lady that carries a basket where ever she go. The mother that dye her hair purple. The boy that never listen. The girl that never smile. The nurse that cries in the corner of an empty ward.

What happen to the world that cannot accept these? A child that was born in the attic. A woman who left her husband. A student that rejects Cambridge. A friend that doesn't like to talk. A teacher that doesn't provide notes. An old man that doesn't have a name. A girl that hates wearing skirt. Why is it not okay if it doesn't hurt? Why must the road be straight.

Once upon a time, there was a hole.