Today is the start of 2005, a brand new year, and i'm bummed at home, doing absolutely nothing productive on this public holiday, not even trimming my nose hair(s). People celebrate the new year with fancy parties and beer, but on this first day of the year i've confined myself to my room. One word. Introspection. Something which has been missing from my usual routine, thanks to the tightly-packed NS life i now lead, and today i need an overhaul. All this while i had to remember what i've lost, but i couldn't. Not the right time, not the right place, not the right state of mind. Blind like a
moth. It was only through her did i managed to look away from the candles. She came pouring with saddness, and for a moment i couldn't recognize her. It had been far too long.
"What's up with the sad face? what's the problem eh?"
"
You."
Her tears flowed into the Sea, and flooded the Archipelago. No, not the recent tsunami catastrophe. The water rose quickly, and suddenly i remembered that i had not
bathed for a very long time! This time i shall bathe till i drown (or the other way around). I woke up on the sandy shores of one of the few surviving islands together with multitutes of driftwood and beach litter. I drowned, but i'm not clean. One by one the man-o-wars flew up and away from the Sea, vanishing into the dark velvet sky. One would expect stars, but the clouds had formed, though it doesn't look like it will rain.
Suddenly the moth appears.
It flutters clumsily from here to there,
and i feel its powder in the air.
i sneezed.
It found me, and dropped a bottle in my laps before dipping into the Sea.
I held the bottle up, and inside it was a complex work of mazes: tiny little rooms, each with their own stories. Little stories that i knew. A maze has an entrance and commonly no exit, so it is also a
room in its own right. A microscopic curator was conducting tours for a troupe of microscopic senior citizens inside the bottle. As i peered into each and every single room i saw and remembered. I stood up, holding the bottle, and peed into it. I buried the bottle of yellow urine in the sand. Even if the moth manages to find the bottle again it wouldn't be brave enough to carry the content. The bottle shall stay on land. The Sea is too turbid for it.
What the moth brought was not a keepsake, but a lesson which i had been too blind to heed. With the wisdom gained from the moth i turned around and walked away from the lights. I now need to look for the grave of my angel.
