Memories of the Wind.

The beginning of the end. Or rather the end of a beginning. Things start, and end in a way which seem to suggest that they have never really begin. Whichever way you look at it, you cannot deny that things change, be it the speed of a bullet train, or a slow moving snail. The sands of time have been prompt, yet stoic in its dealings. Babies grow, and new lines that speak of wisdom and weariness are drawn onto the faces of others. Some dreams have materialised and been fulfiled, while others withered in the pursuit of stability..

This Chinese New year does not have a positive effect on me, unlike previous ones. Perhaps I am getting old for festive seasons. Things have just changed. I miss my grandmother. I miss my mum. I do. I really do. And the image in my mirror now reflects a dark skinned grown up, someone distant, someone I could never relate to. Though I still smile more than I frown, these days, I seem to remember sad moments more than the happy ones. I am getting detached and disillusioned about happiness.

Even as I write all this, I cannot figure out what I intend to convey in this post. Really. Let just end it all with the below sentence. I will explain if I understand. Some other time.



It's a wonder how sometimes, someone can make such a big impact on another person. One is shaped by others. And one shape others too.

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