Raise the red lantern, Zhang Yimou, China, 1991.
Back then it was just your sister, and you. You loved her in a way, I’m not questioning that, though you always seemed to find ways of pestering her when all she was doing was, well…, playing with her little cute dolls. She was a few years younger than you, and that is what girls of her age usually do, remember?
Yet she always raised her voice to defend you when those little bastards used to bully you in the schoolyard. That tiny, defenceless, stubborn girl between you and the kids, shouting her high voice at them to protect your older cowardice.
I don’t pretend to interfere in family matters, but tell me, was it worth it? You wanted that fastidious bit of attention, all right. But, was it really worth it? Worth her profound and utter sadness?
What if I tell you she always knew it was you who let her canary fly away the cage?
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Premature autumn, by Desártico.

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