Sunday, 10 August 2008

A Divinely Short-Handed Flame

Took this off Kee's blog.

In all the languages in the world, there is the same proverb: "what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over." Well, I say that there isn't an ounce of truth in it. The further off they are, the closer to the heart are all those feelings that we try to repress and forget. If we're in exile, we want to store away every tiny memory of our roots. If we're far from the person we love, everyone we pass in the street reminds us of him/her. The gospels and all the sacred texts of all religions were written in exile, in search of God's understanding, of the faith that moves whole peoples, of the pilgrimage of souls wandering the face of the Earth. Our ancestors did not know, as we do not know, what divinity expects from our lives - and it is out of that doubt that books are written and pictures are painted, because we don't want to forget who we are - nor can we.

Contrary to popular sentiment, I can't wait for school to begin. While reading books on your own accord is one thing, it is quite another to attend lessons in the pursuit of guided knowledge. And maybe it's easier for a social science student to say something like this.

There're still golf sessions, suppers, soccer games, artyfarty trips to various museums, books to read, movies to watch, an upcoming IPPT and ultimately the Standard Chartered marathon nearer to the end of the year. So many things so little time, especially for the inertia-afflicted.

After 528 games, I've conquered 400 games, lost 127 and drawn 1. Now, this is quite a blistering Scrabulous run I must say. :]

I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not sure.

Audio Candy:
Jamie Scott - Made

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