Collection of Recollections, Part IV

I remember taking a foreign language course back when I was in college. It was compulsory, we would not be able to graduate otherwise. It was not the first time I was exposed to that certain language, but it was the first time me and my friends decided to actively study the language. For sure, the words did not roll off our tongue prettily, due to different root. We studied it for two years, and then we stopped doing so because we had another important things to focus on. The language becomes a familiar thing for me, though I can no longer speak it. Now I wonder, have I became the language you've partially forgotten? I understand you no longer remember the taste of my name in your lips, how your tongue would twist a little; no other person has managed twist my name in the most exemplary way. — tongues, and other pliant things

Stories can be made in coffee shops, libraries, or even make up store. It's easy to imagine the strangers next to you as something that they aren't, to make them as heroes rather than foes. However enticing it is, the world has been completely reduced into that small corner, that tiny space. You and the other person can imagine endless scenarios where the two of you get to know each other; by shy smiles, nod of acknowledgement, coffee spills, accidentally touching hands, or other marvelous things. A fleeting thing, it is. But you were theirs, several glances ago. — a dictionary-defined zsa zsa zsu

the first lesson,
that life has taught me
all the love stories,
every poem, poetry, snippet
that I have ever
read or written,
could never be
mine — forever the observer

Perhaps in life there is no such thing as eternal soulmate, the kind that you should end up with forever. Maybe what we really have is just these momentary soulmates, the new ones filling in after the previous ones left. Your friends, your cousins, your partners, your colleagues, even your parents are just filling in the gaps, even if the other could never permanently fill the void. They are just beacons of lighthouses in your endless journey through the sea of existence. Irreplaceable connections, though sometimes redundant. Yet you need them, because you can never exist the same before, and after, them. — to my friend, miles in the sky

tonight's four-word story:
was it ever love? — you know the answer

My thesis adviser once told me that I write with feelings, even when it is concerning the rise and fall of great powers post world war two. It was something of myself that I did not recognise and acknowledge, not until he showed me. It was a truth, though not universally acknowledge, that I only just came across when I was still clumsy in being my twenty years. This simple, little truth, thrown at me in his small office in the corner of my campus, made me stop setting myself on fire for not being whatever it was that I should never be, something that was not myself. — little delights, enormous impact