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Friday, February 01, 2008

Dust

In my state of reclusion, I like to explore dusty shelves full of books that haven't been touched in years. I like the sight of plankton like tiny flying colorless particles visible only in the sunlight filtered through my window, creating a shiny staircase in my room. Relationships are like those friable pieces of paper that turn to powder if handled inappropriately. I take great care of books though. As a child, I despised people who wouldn't treat my books right; people who wrote on the smooth pages, people who wet their fingers with their tongues to turn over with a habit of bending pages, leaving dents. They made simple tasks look very "sophisticated" and I found it funny...not the HA-HA wala funny but the strange wala funny. My old drawer is my little time machine that takes me back to the early days. It's funny how some of those little pieces of paper, birthday cards, eid cards, postcards, notes, chalks and rubbers have survived in that little place for all those years. Its like a little museum in there. There are times when I feel friable too and feel like I'm going nowhere. But I see light at the end of the tunnel and it keeps me going. It's funny again how I end up trusting myself and you time after time. One of my greatest fears is that when we meet, you're gonna cry and I'll hug you...but its only gonna be friendly.