alternative title : and it will all come to pass
i have nothing much to say here. whims, or things, don’t or, won’t matter much any more after a few days. like a dream which is remembered only moments after awakening; vivid images that hold certain ideas, they all vanish into the fog of that day, only to be rediscovered, years, months, decades, later. and when it does you know what to do. pile them on like a memorabilia. build shrines out of them, or put them neat like medals and trophies, one after another, recount them to the (occasional) visitor, amuse yourself, simplify words, stories bend bend bend twist twist twist kill kill kill them off.
or, go through their belongings, collect scraps of papers from them, or that reminds you of them, like the starting lesson of a Latin language (for what?), or the notes you exchanged, or the wrapping paper, or the crumpled paper with the basic guitar chords scrawled (which seemed fruitless), or a hate note dedicated to you on De Maupassant’s printed short story left overnight in the class(“english dapat 90 pun kau cakap sikit? pffft”), or them little boxes with your name stickered on it, or cards, bottles, frames, letters, poems, film strips, posters. anything. anything.
very….kitsch (!).
p/s: the very difference lies between what you see as mere facts that contain no meaning, unless given to you, that you fail – ooooh – to see anything beyond that. instead of what, we’d rather ask, what for? and so, alot of “so”s follows. never be so bent on following orders, like Miss Eliza, my maths teacher in Jalan Empat, used to say, in the most stately manner, “If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you jump?”
weight. the very thing that carries us down.
perkaraperkara 