In a sudden I feel grievous, looking up from page 44 of Jacob’s Room through the rain-strained window to the top of a leafless tree backgrounded by the cloudy sky of December the first. Fresh out of college with a mind full of ideology and ideas, with that body full of strength and energy, young men […]Read More Jacob’s Room
It seems that he does not marry her because she is too smart. There should not have been such an unjustified phrase as ‘too smart’, for one surely cannot simply be ‘too smart’ without taking any conditions into comparison. But in this case it is not that she is ‘smarter’ than him. It is not […]Read More The Fall of THE Ivory Tower
: Could you please stop coming to see me from this day on? : Why? – : Because I don’t like being used to something. Suggested soundtrack: Brittle with Sorrow by Dakota SuiteRead More Untitled #5
I breathed in that last burning breath and flicked its end onto the ground. I stamped upon it, but the fire was not extinguished. I stamped once again and pulled up my foot to see, it was still not extinguished. I miss you now, feeling that same fire burning inside my chest. I let you […]Read More Cigarette End
But we are human with heart and soul. How could our warm flesh get prevailed from cherishing the sun, and our beating heart from admiring the moon? Or our human’s nature is more beautiful than that of the nature out there? So ideally we should mindfully concentrate on only ourselves. I disagree. Suggested soundtrack: Tristesse […]Read More Tristesse d’Olympio
What catastrophe will it lead to? Why such moral standards are needed to set apart teacher and student, doctor and patient, artist and model, and so on so forth? It is the matter of nearness. Why aren’t teacher and assistant professor prohibited to each other? Why aren’t doctor and nurse? Artist and his peer? Heart […]Read More Why is It So Wrong?
I do not want to sleep. I hate sleeping. I do not want to dream, to be falling in that black hole full of illusionary stories. And then to get dragged desperately back to the reality in which none of those stories exists. It is just an exhausting cycle, happening nights after nights. . Sometimes […]Read More Personal No. 8