'The Birth Of Stars; The Death Of Ashes'

I remember looking into the dark sky one day, feeling like an atom; or anything else which is as insignificant and small, wondering if the stars could see me (if they could perceive sight in the first place - all the way from where they were; a more accurate way of describing this would be: 'if I was a star, could people see me?' *shrugs*), if by some illogical science: the aura of my emotions could generate an energy which would be visible to the naked eye, thousands of miles away.

I remember feeling strangely fearful that the world was too big - that the distance would matter, and that the endeavor: not. After a while I thought that maybe I had been listening to too much Mew. In a big, big way, I am really small; I get off my feet, but I'm still distant. Don't you just love goodbyes? Music can just kill you, I guess (it can also make you hang on, and pine, and dream) - if you're lonely enough.

I remember looking into the dark sky, comparing where I was and where I am. The same star was shining brilliantly, as always - above the new block of apartments (the one which I had chose to stare at, and on ocassion - perceived as travelling), while I too was sitting on the same concrete bench, with my eyes intently absorbing the 'shines-in-the-dark'. But somehow it was not the same anymore. My hand would be clutching the handphone instead of a pack of cigarettes.

All these things I remember. And probably will see again in my mind (along with a hundred more things which happened to me in my twenty five years of mortality - I haven't read the newspaper or lapped up the tell-E's programmes as a potato for weeks, so my mind has to do something to compensate for exercise / lack thereof, I guess), as I'm travelling to Kuala Lumpur this Friday.

Sometimes (especially now), I can just see everything from the past forming lines, converging, becoming directions. And so I go. And so I will meet.

(" , )