It has been a far, far journey from home. The track I have plotted unconsciously and silently went wild along with nature. This was not precisely the way I imagined this land would be like. This was so much more. I might have missed all the little details when I built this paradise on earth concept in my head that drew beautifully with no sign of flaw. I forgot the little details which was very basic and essential; then as I stroke carefully with my bare hands on to the canvas, I went aware. There, I could feel the uneven surface, the fritters of previous sketch and failed skewed line.
I thought perfection exist.
But it was not. There was only a simple compromise looking at something imperfect. It was about looking beyond what you see with naked eyes. It was about swallowing bullshit by choosing which worth to give a shit. Perfection only burns. Burn in flame till it eat you bravely then left nothing but ashes of memories -- I was not sure what was lost; and I was not really trying to find any. But collection of still images hardly lie. The smile, the ray flickered through the eyes. They were not present these past couple of weeks. I have had better sunny days.
On the other hand, I do not mind getting burned. I need that intensity of sparks that stimulates my nerves. I need to feel something, again. Now all that left was stranger's warmth hospitality while I was holding Kerouac's book this morning. At least the rain did not kill anything else but my feeble spirit. But hey, let's just not underestimate summer's miracle. Magic might just around the corner.
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