Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh

Tag: English writing

  • At the Harbour, Before I Know the Story

    Reading Day — Thursday, August 13th, 2026

    On Elizabeth Taylor’s A View of the Harbour

    My first time in the harbour: at the dock, standing in the sea breeze. English air. An unfamiliar coast, oddly familiar. But this is not a book about the cozy English sea town in a postcard.

    I have read only the first few pages of the book, and it has already given me its weather and atmosphere. I feel the harbour holding the secrets of the townspeople. I feel the sea carrying the flotsam and jetsam of life quietly and bringing them into the harbour—an always moving inside a never-arrival.

    The characters I have met so far are ordinary in the sense that none of them has that fierce individualism, existential malady, or anything that instantly piques the senses. But people may find pornography in Jane Eyre: the tension, the ache, the desire. They are not spoken but felt. People keep them in the mind, as if giving a voice to the forbidden would desecrate Jane Eyre.

    I think that is what the book wants us to see: what may seem ordinary on the surface, like a calm sea, hides a storm spiraling into a pillar of fury, discordance, and disorientation. I have not yet come to know the characters, except for Prudence, whose two Siamese cats love pushing their small heads against her legs. It is the cats that draw my attention to her, but she seems to have a story to tell as a beautiful young girl who does not act like a beautiful teenage girl.

    Prudence is Prudence: Quaker in name, puritanical in action. But she may turn out to be someone different from what I have seen as I progress through the pages, although I want her to remain as I see her now. I want her to be beautiful without being popular.

    That is life, isn’t it? Change is human, an uninvited grace. You want someone you like to remain the way you know them. That is what I want to know after I complete reading the book.

    The sea will remain the same. The harbour may not.

    — Stephanie Joori Suh

  • Prompt 25

    Describe one habit that brings you joy.

    Writing is a magical portal for me to escape from reality, a sort of near-astral body experience Dr. Strange does so effortlessly. It is a particular alchemy of literature where thoughts become images and then come alive, flitting in the garden of senses. Or I can fly across the blue firmament chasing the Sun Chariot and riding on the Moon Chariot and glide on the first ray of sunrise.

    Although these days I haven’t written as much as I used to because of work and other matters, a desire for writing always stays as an undying ember glowing in a phosphorous blue diamond so rare and beautiful in the abyss of malaise. I don’t believe that writing is not a prerogative of elites, nor a status symbol of the perfect grammarians. As long as you can communicate your spirits and souls in words and strike the chords of readers, that makes you a good writer, and that’s a joy to see your magic working.

    Writers- I mean whoever writes, not just professional writers- possess a spirit of poetic madness or a gift of seeing spirits in every living thing in this universe, akin to a Sybil or a Sherman. Therefore, anyone possessed with a desire for writing can see things that others can’t see and, what’s more, begin to form the shapes of the unseen. For these reasons, writing to me brings me the joy of being a wonderful white witch of beauty.

  • Prompt 17

    Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?

    Oscar Wilde was right in saying, “Be yourself; everyone is taken.” A person’s uniqueness results from the courage to express oneself, confidence in being oneself, and love of oneself without making oneself parallel to the outlook of others for their beauty or power.

    Nowadays, women’s beauty has never been so outrageously uninformed than before, thanks to social media, where famous or not pretentiously show off their surgically created beauties to mold into a standard beauty manufactured and advertised by the media in the form of celebrities. As Edgar Allan Poe averred, “There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in proportion,” no beauty is perfect, no one is perfectly beautiful as Plato confirmed we live in the imperfect world, where no perfect beauty exists. I think everyone of us in this world has one thing or more beautiful internally as well as externally if each of us looks into the eye of one another, whether it is a stranger or acquaintance. But in this millennials, Generations Z and Alpha dominated 21st century, my talk of the simple and sophisticated beauty at once is only an outcry of a madwoman, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

    As times go by with the leaves of my tree falling off in my season of life, I am disheartened by people’s comments about the years passed manifesting on the external castle of my soul, which I always retort with a quick denial because age cannot wither me away, nor custom can stale my unique character reflecting on the windows of my soul! I would rather be a lonely beautiful witch than a cantankerous woman complacent with her stage of life, always gossiping and crude.

  • Prompt 15

    How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?

    There are differences between a sycophant and a yes man/woman. The former curries favor from an influential person employing flattering, whereas the latter- usually the meek and vulnerable- tries to protect a self from retaliation or bullying by sacrificing even a little leisure of comfort within a castle of own as a luxury to survive in their rule of the jungle. In that regard, I consider myself the latter who hardly says no to egoists.

    I am something of Diana, the beautiful friend of Anne Shirley of the Green Gables, the sweet but also fiercely passionate literary blue-stocking girl whose headstrong pride and vividly adventurous spirit put her soft-spoken, amiable bosom friend in trouble. Diana’s fragile sensitivity and delicate femininity deter her from voicing out her mind. Hence she is seen as meek or less intellectual even than Anne, who is a vivid talker able to account a thread of stories woven by her trademark imaginativeness. But that’s not what it seems, and we know it. Well, at least I do because I relate myself to Diana in terms of timidity translated into self-consciousness. But then it is also a quick and painless way to judge one’s character based on the appearance and social backgrounds. Isn’t it so?

    I say yes to those who bully, dislike, and disregard me to avoid unnecessary confrontations that will shatter the windows of my glass heart. No, I am not a coward, never, because a coward blindly gives into the will of the other.

  • In spite of everything

    Today, whatever the Fates weave

    Shall still be worn with beauty by me;

    Today then don’t let you be told,

    How many chapters of life are turned;

    That you are old, and so I am indeed;

    Nor think dreams are waned with tears,

    And talk of the youth wasted with sighs.

    Tomorrow will be always tomorrow

    And nothing will change even sorrow. 

    But reason brings truth of the truth

    An everlasting and brilliant truth,

    Which can, in spite of all smirks,

    Open your eyes and and my ears

    To the evening star twinkling bright 

    With sweet soft winds fluting in twilight, 

    Made of fire, spirit, and dew like you and me.

  • Powder

    Happiness is her
    coveted poetry
    She’s kept away
    From writing
    Without knowing
    The face of love
    She’s seen only
    As in lovers’ faces
    Harvesting sunshine
    Reflecting starlight
    With a fragrance
    Of a perfumed powder
    She bought a long ago.