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Sunday, 29 November 2009


Something beautifully simple, yet convoluted with unexpectedly piercing twists and painfully surprising turns. Punctuated. Unspoken. Yet closing with the sound of a loud bang. The beautiful sepia blooms aloud into 3 different petals. I have no idea which petal is rotting or which has already fell off. I'm in no position to tell.
The room light has been blinking in slow-mo Morse Code fashion, switched on and off by a restless boy. I know not why he suffer this insomnia because he's actually very tired especially mentally and emotionally. As the boy grows older into the story, he changes. In the face of an explanation, he twitches not a single eyelid.
A pretty simple answer that the boy would give. That would explain alot of things. But the first thing that comes to me is sharp. I think that this inertia eats at the very core of my being. It hurts. It sinks in to me. For reason far out of reach. Really, should i be happy or sad? Or should i just sit and wait out the storm? Everytime a petal is dropping, it magically turns back out anew. So how can i confirm anything? If i was wrong a thousand times, would another really make a difference?
The silent duck just sits there and wait.
eternal - Truman