This is the first direct first-person post i have since a long long time man. Ever since then. Oh well, i just wanna like leave a few words for this group of kids that i have kinda gotten close and attached to. They made my days worthwhile. They made me feel passionate bout what i do. And they make me feel full of zest once again.

Ma, Mutou, Aunty, Medium, Small, Big, Ank, Bev, Reb, Carrot, Carrotin, K, SJI, Hocker, Big Nose. You guys are special and winners alr. You have achieved what i daren't expect on day 1. All you need to do is to enjoy your time now. Go there and strut your stuff. Own the arena. Its ok whatever happens alright? The important issue at hand is not whether u win or not. It is the bonds and relationships that were forged through this process that truly matters. It is the enjoyment and contentment derived that counts. Not the victory. Kapish?

*N He laid the white rose before all that before him. The pristine white that couldn't be tainted. The pristine white that can juxtopose with anything. The pristine purity that one can only keep. The one thing in life that once lost will never be around again*

Labels: white roses

He once said to a little girl that it was futile to hunt for perfection. Instead, He told her to look for a masterpiece. It was a piece of advice he held close to his heart because the many failures He encountered taught Him just that.

So life goes on. Whatever that had happened was put behind him. He still had many other things around him that warranted His time, energy and effort. His devotion to contentment in life has allowed to see the many works of art by great masters and mistresses. He is not a active-seeking buyer of any of the specific artworks. But rather, he feels and measure each work for what it is and assess accordingly. He bids his time while roaming the streets, channels and avenues, like a patient brewer of exquisite concoctions.

He feels The Piece might be near though.

He feels.

Labels: contentment above all else

As they stood before the marble slab before them, watching the swirling wisps of smoke rise from the sticks of offerings, a certain sense of marvel mixed with the sorrow of incapability welled up within him. He saw how his Mirror's gaze oozed respect while the crevices of age were filled with such passionate love He never saw before. But what He saw plucked his heartstrings so bad emotions just welled and gushed. He loved his Mirror, just like His Mirror loved his. He reflected His Mirror, just like His Mirror reflected his. The image of Him is always the same. Different in the tangible ways but almost identical in intangible ones. This fact reveberated through his mind. How is it possible he never saw this nor did he realise this earlier?

So the story behind every reflection before Him might be different. But what stays the same are the values and the aura they emit. What stays the same is the love and respect for those before him. What stays a fact is that he was a collection of experience of the mirrors before him, each physically different but internally the same.

That is the reason why He marvels, yet cry in sorrow. It was beyond Him, and any other being. It was the truth that He and all others can only accept. Just because.

Labels: living of sons, Passing of fathers