5:48 PM

  Living like a ghost in a castle. Floating around. Up and down the stairs. Reading dusty books. Half listening to music. Staying silent. All day long. A whisper. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Music festival versus textbooks

Image
Best things that happened to me today: Palma Violets, Of Monsters and Men, and Blur.         Wasn’t I supposed to be studying?          Right.         #         I never realized until today how good they’ve been to me.  I’ve taken so many people’s trust and appreciation for granted.  They listen, and think, even when I act like a willful child.          I remember on a quiet afternoon with Pan – it’s one of the few conversations we shared alone – I confided that I was far less than what people assumed.  The way they listened and talked to me frustrated me; I couldn’t begin to explain to them my fear.  For the first time someone believed; he understood.  I was the same, he said.  I was so thankful.         #         Received a postcard.  A car submerged in pitch dark road, headlights seeking forward.  At night in the country, senses seem to be reduced to smell.  The smell of fertilizer.  Of stagnant water.  Of breezes traveled through grass.  Of empty space.       
Read more

Search of the Perfect Book (I)

Image
part of the books on my shelves Determined to find the “perfect book” (which I know is an horrible and inaccurate phrase), I was surfing through literary reviews and comments on great writers for the past four days. Clicking on entries, looking into promising authors and typing into Amazon search box took nearly all of my time online, which was very, very much, comparing to my usual behavior. I might have gone a little over the top. I have been exhilarated, or invigorate, to be more exact. The excitement was electrifying and almost dangerous, but I had still decided to let my passion lead the way. After all, a good dose of energy is never a bad thing, is it? In spite my devotion to Chinese literature for the past decade, I have no knowledge over the culture, the standards, or the participating individuals in English Literature circle. While browsing through bookshelves in a Chinese bookstore, I can always relate what I see with what I already know. I can under
Read more

A

She was assigned  my other half.  After exchanging a plastic cup of milk tea, we were to become as close as lovers.         But not even now can I understand her.         She is slender; long straight hair tensely falls beside her face.  She talks with an awkward excitement, letting syllables slip quickly through her lips, and hangs the end of every sentence in the air with an inquiring gaze.  Her language is foreign to me, but in the fragments of sentiment that flow across, I sense her emotions run, wild and ferocious.          Weren't we supposed to be science people ?         I knew myself to be different in many respects – but she bewildered even me.         She calls herself by the obscure name of an ancient Greek goddess.  In her veins flow the thickest and deepest colored blood I’ve ever come to known; she reads heartbreaking poems, let them bleed her, and believes in them; She writes love stories, in which people love and despair intensely; Baudelaire
Read more