happy easter holidays. days in summer are apt to linger. this is not too random i promise, it more or less summarizes the recent muse i had, whilst consumed by wanderlust in sweden. i waited for a while, then begun to laugh as i opened up a vein.
‘ i imagine myself in a paper forest, i looked up to the tree and felt dizzy from where i stood. bare feet in the wet grass, while thinking about the water. i want to say it but i am unsure how i should begin. with my eyes closed, it seemed that all of life’s experiences had been witness through rose-colored glasses . i struggled with words, clearly there are not 100,000 beautiful words in the english language to explain what i had witnessed further. i shall not approve or disapprove of anything now, only to stay curious, for we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices. ‘
‘ from here on in, i can eat whomever i please. ‘ – thought the dandy as he slipped away and tried on the bear suit.
wander; the more i travel, the more keenly i consider that whatever at that time seemed certainly ‘good enough’ for our fathers is not ‘good enough’ for us anymore. the sorrowful reality of what modernity has led us to become. ( ‘your devices are good for almost nothing’, theo told the inventor, standing beside him on a mechanical cloud at the gates of the sky-city. )
price; we are overcharged for everything nowadays. i can afford nothing but self-denial, what tragedy. ( how many wolves will i need for the wolf-pit? she thought, sitting by the window alone. )
lost; the scene carries with it the tremulous ecstasy one hears, just before the dawn when nightingales are singing. nothing quite summarize this like wilde’s witty play of words. ( with each year your burden grows heavier. oh, when will you set it down, taking up again the fresh green clothes of childhood, of rescuing grasses & fluttering fields? )
poverty; recalled a conversation with a native greek student (with a smirk on his face) telling me that all of asia very much begun/remained a poor continent, besides being plagued by poverty, asia grew accustomed to famine as well. it struck me hard, maybe there is something infinitely mean about the tragedies of others. but clearly no one reads the papers anymore. oh tabloids! what gossip will you bring today?
influence; to influence a person is to give him/her one’s own soul. to remove them of the natural thoughts & passions. they then becomes an echo of someone else’s music. people are afraid of themselves today, the aim of life is self-development. ( i want to fall asleep in the woods with moss under my head & surrounded by animals, in that way to gain both winds & new friends. )
interest; there are only two types of people i find fascinating. people who know absolutely everything, & people who know absolutely nothing. ( here it is said, touching your hair with your fingertips will result in almost instant death from poisoning. )
benevolence; people are very much fond of supplying/furnishing others with what they themselves need most. the depth of generosity, i find it rather intriguing. ( the man with the bird head was often sad for he knew that the others in the town spoke ill of him. )
time; because time is of valor important, it is the only currency we are genuinely left with. just counting it can have great significance. don’t squander the gold of your days trying to improve the hopeless failure or listening to the tedious. let nothing be lost upon you.
strange; please remember, things are not what they seem. do not let appearances fool you, there can only be one reality. (‘can’t you explain it to him?’ asked emily, who had spent the last hour trying to glue the wings back on to her dying bird. ) free will may be an illusion as murakami suggests.
a wonderful journey indeed. left me with the passion for sensations, as nothing quite cures the soul but senses, just as nothing cures the senses but soul. i will be leaving for barcelona on friday. till then, i hope you’ve enjoyed the bits of rain after the drought, of which i must apologize. have a great week ahead.
song for today; otis redding – sitting on the dock of the bay