Is it true that without expectatations, life will be without fear and depression?
If that is the case, can we just live for the moment alone?

Thanks for letting me lift from your blog. 8 ). Happy birthday, Pofun.

A little story I wrote, not neccessarily relevant. Take what you will from it.

He lived in the moment.

It wasn't very long ago when she rested her head on his shoulder. The skating rink was a cool (pun intended) place to be on a school day afternoon. The relative chill which surrounded them accentuated the warmth between them, within them. There hadn't been many people around, and it was easy to pretend that the skaters were performing for just the two of them. As she rested her head on his shoulder, and held his hand in hers, time stood still. Time stood still, in that moment. The steady rhythmn of two hearts, beating as one, echoed endlessly in this moment in time, at the very point where these two lives came together. A sound, at once both serene and tempestuous.

He wasn't sure. Was this going to last ? Perhaps if he knew where she was, he could go find her. But he didn't, and neither did she. When he went into the forest to look for her, he got lost too. He wanted to find her. He thought that if and when he did, they could spend their lives together.

He didn't. And when she found her own way out of the forest, he was left inside instead. He lived in the moment, and for a long time, reminisced about the girl who once rested her head on his shoulder, refusing to find his way out of the forest.

But he did. When all the confusion and anger and noise died, all that was left was the peaceful, uncluttered serenity of simply knowing. That where the forest ended, there are meadows. And somewhere out there, among the lilting blades of grass, stood a handsome woman, waiting.

And he asked, "Are you expecting someone?"

She smiled and said, "Not anymore."

Wa Si Xia Jit Gai Blog Eh Nang

>> Matrix Reloaded Demystified
Courtesy of Browntown. Someone should hire this guy to do subtitling. *grin

The Telling of Stories

So very quietly, this little blog saw its 100th viewer (or page refresh, for all you purists). There's nothing much that'll hold one's attention like a simple story well told (and nothing quite enlightening like a complex story simply told, but that's another story for another time). This has been (and I suspect, will continue to be) true for a very long time. Works of art, musical compositions, poetry, stories, fairytales, even the simple newspaper or magazine article, they all have a story to tell somewhere if you look hard enough.

If you look deep enough.

Stories with heart, stories with morals, stories which instruct. There are stories that are but switches which evoke thoughts and emotions that, for most parts, constitute the bigger part of consensual reality. The reason why some stories have a better mass appeal than some others is probably because they are usually the ones which are somewhat more accessible to the masses - just look at the deluge of cheap romance novels in the bookshops. Cheap tricks, cheap thrills, but effective marketing nonetheless. Why else would they have made so much of them, if they weren't profitable ?

The story is what lies beneath the words, what you make of them. And the better the storyteller knows his reader, the more intimate the stories he writes. As such, the secret to the art of storytelling lies as much in the listening as it does in the telling. Knowing exactly what to say, how to say it, and who to say it to, puts tremendous power in the tongue of speaker indeed.

Is there a story that you want told ? I will be taking requests for stories for a future website. Leave your concepts, seeds, titles, or anything else you'd want to see me write something about in the tagboard.

I'd rather die of starvation cooped up in my room than venture into the kitchen for food and have my sanity torn to shreds by the ceaseless nagging.



Send food.