Lonely water~*

This.



Sometimes, you can't.

~*~*~*

So much to update - M's beautiful wedding, trip to Hanoi with 383.3, work, cello...

Then again, the long established fact is that I can no longer write coherent narratives.
Guess I'll have to let photos do most of the narrating and I'll write minimally.
Ah, photos. Patience, patience.

~*~*~*

Not looking forward to work tomorrow.

The cogs and wheels of my brain really need some greasing.

Alive~*

“Tsukuru remembered those days in college when all he’d thought about was dying. 

Already sixteen years ago. Back then he was convinced that if he merely focused on what was going on inside of him, his heart would finally stop of its own accord. That if he intensely concentrated his feelings on one fixed point, like a lens focused on paper, bursting it into flames, his heart would suffer a fatal blow. More than anything he hoped for this. 

But months passed, and contrary to his expectation, his heart didn't stop. 

The heart apparently doesn't stop that easily.” 

— Haruki Murakami, Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

Last year, 

at times, I'd forgotten that my heart was beating. 

And I'd forgotten what it was like to be alive, to have blood course through your body, to feel present, in the here and now. 

This year, 

I want to listen to my heart beat, and I want to feel alive. 

No more in-betweens. 

I need a certainty - a concrete, irrefutable proof that I'm alive.