the day has it all

today is the last day of the year. and it is time for everything in the universe to show the entirety of them all. as for the day, today has it all. from the freezing blue sky of winter to the year end sale along the passage, my mind comes to a conclusion that the year end has to be completed first before another year comes along. fireworks and champagne will soon be served and cheering laughs will be heard as well. while all the canal are starting to freeze, and there is no way for boats and ducks to float, yet the winter has offered another kind of serenity for a year end. to quote from shakespeare, all is well ends well. or to excerpt another fancy words from a particular song, "every new beginning is some other begining's end". though time is irreversible, but i believe that time is our friend. we should be patience with it, and let it leads us.

for me, i also have personal outcome that i have achieved so far. but lets put it aside for a moment. because most of all, the year has been a complete one for me. for i have you today.

reading room

despite of the comfy room in elandstraat, there is another hideway for hours of uninterrupted reading time. as the international city of law and justice, s'gravenhage has equipped herself not only with the international court of justice, but also with a credible law library with an outstanding collection. and there is the place where i spend hours of the day. located very close to the place i live, it becomes my nearest escape corner. regardless of its abundant sources which are considerably sufficient for my study, its tranquility also provides me the warmness of a little home outside my own place. maybe its because the big windows that show the tall bare trees in winter misty sky, or it probably because the librarian always treat the books nicely so that i have never had trouble every time i started a conversation with a book i read. all in all, it is another place in this city, where time always shows its hospitality.

vredepaleis from the top of dorus building

frozen bike

look at this bike. although this is not my bike, however it really represents how my bike will look like. i left it at the bicycle shed, and since the winter has been increasingly cold, i think it has left some traces of dusty snow on top of the bike's pad.

have a little faith in me

after spending half of the day with good food and taking the so called candid pictures, the day ended its brightness in a little place for hot drinks in down town. sitting in a wooden chair, a sweet tunes catched an attention. the singer played it very well, and he spoke softly about the time. and for time, there would be no end, like an endless circle that makes an eight. the song was just nicely fit to the winter. as the night always comes with its darkness, it entices the feeling of wanting for security.

a dusk of elandstraat

the second day of christmas. the day was tranquil as no one wanted to spend time outside their homes. though the sun made the day colored with blue sky and yellow sun, but it was insufficient to bring the happiness to the streets and cafes. the city was occupied by the silence of celebration. it did not look overwhelmed, but the humbleness of joy painted the faces and the smiles i have seen all the way. coming out of its serenity, the calm winter night was slowly approaching. it left traces in the sky, a dusk of violet and orange.

hear them sing

at one of my favorite spots in this city, there was a choir and a tall bright tree right in the middle of the the passage. people and time are getting closer to the tip of the joyful season. in the mean time, these people, they were kind of holding back the time by their seasonal songs. as they successfully have stopped people to have a considerable glance to the performance, their enchanting voices were also filling the emptiness for those who can not be with their loved ones. my mind wandered around the idea of those soldiers in battlefield, far away in the desert of nowhere. i guesss, they only have to celebrate it with the starry nights and the endless wishes out of the mountainous hills. but when i found myself in the middle of the crowd in the passage onceagain, warm thoughts suddenly got into me. though i am not in the middle of the celebration, but while myself was hearing them sing, the lovely thought of home has dismantled an alien in a foreign land.

in between

in times between...

for the nitty gritty life enriching ingredients

obviously the distant does not a big problem today. since the world is shrinking, or should i say...flattening (?), thoughts are easily flying across the continent. as the menu of today is about the nitty gritty life enrinching ingredients, the fears and dreams were pouring down like a light rain in winter from a long best friend from down there in south. talking about how days can leave such impressions that actually offer the space for us to retroactively digest all the subtleties in it. and put it in the wok, steam it for another consecutive moment. let the ingredients enrich the main dish.

the longest night

if the day were shorter, then the night would be longer. for the dark is the beauty of all soberness, then winter would be the season with the utmost humble attitude. there is no sparkling golden leaves, or summer sunshine with its seductive glances. spring is still months away with its colorful tulips and daffodils. all we have now is winter. dimmed silver lights get blurry in the midst of moderate sunlight. days will surrender to the longest nights. and in this silent, you can talk to yourself loudly.

last supper

after months of whirlwind papers and breath-taking schedule, the last autumn and winter season of classes are finally finished. and tonight's choice is the italian restaurant across the canal where we all should meet and enjoy the last supper of our-one-and-a half-year of quality time together. there is no doubt everything must have an end, there is nothing last forever. there is an end in the new beginning. as my lasagna salmone is served, i enjoy it spoon by spoon from the white oval plate. im sure it was cooked precisely and wholeheartedly. i taste it as i digest the last one and a half year of our times. it has built like a spider web in the sky of my horizon, soft like a burning incense. the odor flies somewhere in the air and lingers invisibly. somehow those traces of time have enriched my life.

many good wishes

talking about many good wishes, i think they are very easy to find. it's like having good times during breakfast, having good shoes, or good travel to see places that make you want to visit. and you obviously can see all the good wishes, when the starry night is above there and the rough sound of waves thwirling on shore. they are all good wishes. i wish you could greet them the way they transform themshelves along the journey. safe travel.

anniversary

to quote from a website, anniversary means the annual recurrence of a date marking a notable event. time. event. the sequent. a cycle. a life.

wasabi and the tale of mr hendrix

a delightful evening in early december. celebrations all over the town have just finished the night before, left the city under the clear sky and the warmness of the winter queen.

and wasabi, the magic green pasta danced with mr hendrix in the dimming room. surrounded by apetite and dignity, the last round for those sticky rolling seaweeds were unpredictably stung like bees with wasabi on both sides of them. ouucchhh...

another round for sinterklaas

for a sophomore's journey, sinterklaas is once again coming to town. and in this particular weekend, things are so unpredictable. whilst some things are on top of the day's priority, i expect no present. but apparently the santa never forget those who drown in piles of papers, a chocolate with an initial is received, given in the pieter de la courtgebouw. bedankt.

mr. d'Arcy and the oil field

in 1908, william knox d'Arcy found oil in commercial quantities in persia. since then, the black gold entered the stage of world politics in the region. the adventurous australian then established an oil company which then was nationalised by the persian several years later. the possession of this natural treasure has been entangled by the twist and turn of interest in this anarchical society. maybe mr d'arcy only wanted to experience the excitement of treasure hunting when he and his men drilled the oil well nearby the masjid-i-sulaiman. or he probably did it for the sake to accomodate the luxury of life offered from the refinement product of oil. to taste the world.

little shoes

shoes, one of the most important items for walking. you can read people from the shoes they choose. and you know, there is always some sensibility for the reason behind it. some people think shoes also can represent the idea of beauty. like those who come from the middle kingdom, ladies are seen to be profoundly beautiful by having tiny feet. small and delicate like the white lilies, beautifully vulnerable.

back to the days in the middle kingdom, i met with these tiny friends. they replicated the actual tiny shoes which wore by women in the last century. the first time i met them, they were seating on the table and greeting me. since then, i decided to take them home, as we have become friends since. my little friends shared days and nights with me, and they told me about the freedom and the bounded feet. people with tiny shoes were dependent and had short walking distance. little shoes made the world shrink to a measurable space of one's life.

but now, my little friends are artificial, they are only made for the sake of history. whilst the idea of beauty has transformed. people take care their foot as normal as they could with treatment and fashionable shoes. yet sensibility remains there.

oil and vinegar

due to certain reason, i had to pay a visit to the master of spices in town. i entered the store and big glass of cubes greeted me. the air inside was sour and sweet, like a fresh of pickle ready to be stored in the jar. the master was busy in his hospitable desk. with the weekend and people's dinner festivity were approaching, he should fullfil every client shopping list's demands. i heard people's comments and short conversation with him, while his hands were wrapping bootles of dressing and vinegar with fancy papers.

the air was getting sour and sweet, like a mixed of fresh pickle. and my searched continued. i amused myself with his magic recipes for making all kinds of dressing. with oil and vinegar, and of course with a thoughtful calculation. no wonder, people in town called him the master of spices. his skill for dressing the food, is somehow artistic and meticulous.

mutual hurting stalemate

the condition has never been so peaceful in this region. they both struggle for the sake of identity and the so called religious reasons, but the situation is rapidly changing now. due to many reasons, each party has friction within themselves, in which internal fragmentation is a sign for peace vulnerabilities. and now, there is no trusted partner from each side for peace negotiation. whilst international recognition has been the ultimate goal for the legitimacy of representation. today, i am questioning myself, whether the condition will continue to escalate and in the end will create the mutual hurting stalemate for all side so that conflict resolution will appear on their priority. the reflection of my skeptical view as the ordinary citizen of the world.

my sociologist friends

being involved in academic life is obviously offering alot of windows to see things. while enjoying the sudden bright afternoon in iona's winter garden, my sociologist friends eventually come across the table and join my little universe on earth. the bowls of soup are empty now but the influx of nutrition to color the landscape outside my window is about to begin. the day has been a changing four seasons in time, and in iona's backyard, the sociologists are decorating the interior of this peaceful garden with their particularities. my dear sociologist friends, what on earth that make your thought of all the causal relations seems so far from complexities? i mean, nowadays, the simplicity in life has been highly ignored. the far-reaching orientation of assumptions or prediction are occupying the time frame of life. and now, since you are all in the iona's backyard, singing and reciting the words of the day, i cherish the time for situating us altogether in this sofia's valley.

a day of light snow

having a day of snow fall in the iona's backyard has just about to begin. the light snow flakes are flying intesely in the air. the troops sent by the winter queen finally has arrived. their boots step on the green grass of iona's winter garden, and the seeds of flower choose to hibernate for a while, until the srping sunshine wake them up. it is the time for all the fairies to gather in sofia, for another all-year-round up meeting with the queen. but before that, some preparation need to be arranged, thereby today the winter troops are coming to ensure everything will be white as the beautiful cloud dancing in the clear sky. that is the formal code of conduct for the winter. to welcome the summit of all fairies in the world. and soon the festivity in sofia's valley will be lighten up by the sparks of northern stars and little candles. but in iona's backyard, the winter will be as tasty as warm chocolate served with butter cakes.

beads of pearl

the drops of early snow are falling from the grey windy sky today. they all look white and luminous. like beads of pearl, they are less soft compare to the heavy snow fall in late winter. this is still preliminary ones. by embracing the invisible parachutes on their back, they land harshly on the ground. hence they are quite noisy as their foot steps hitting the streets and the surface of everbody's boots. with their proud glances, the beads of pearl are screaming their silent greetings to us. soon our city will be conquered by their cold-blooded soldiers, those who are famous for their freezing touches. and the winter queen will squeeze the weather for cold nights and echoing whirlwind blowing inward from the ocean to the land. we should be ready for the invasion.

vision in shades of blue

days of winter are coming to town. and the dream of long nights will embrace. i always find the winter as a new promising star. though the days will be shorter, and the night will be longer. but to imagine how sensitive our vision in the dark, it excites me on how precious these windows of the world. it is the time for another stargazing tales. and it is time for our vision to see things other than blue.

new world order

the so-called term of "the new world order" has been playing around in my mind lately. from the literatures that i've read, they all convince that the current world is moving towards the new world order where there are several emerging new players in the arena. having said this, i feel like the political constelation seems utterly invisible. the only means to grasp the whole idea is by reading and reading and continuously reading...

regardless of those super exhaustive yet adventurous efforts, a light suddenly appears in the end of this dark tunnel, a visionary state of mind. it might be not so sensational, yet it represents the very simple of the present impression of my world view.

there are the fashionable chicken from jogja. painted in different colors, they fascinate my eyes. local people sale them for children. look at the way they are kept. in a transparent cage, neither you nor i would ever know whether they enjoy being there. but the most important is, they are not in a conflictual conditon. indeed, the divergent looks beautiful in an orderly manner...

all in all, from the high politics venue of the new world order to the fascinating chicken, i hope my self-mumbling shows some respect to both ideas.

the orange lady

i like oranges, i mean the fruit. since i live the territory possessed by the orange family, so i have to clarify this in the first place.

i dont know exactly the reason, but i realize the fruit has a certain kind of attraction that can tacitly entice my sense. it has a distinctive smell peeled out from its round-shaped structure. the fragrance spread out to the air like the perspire of a gardener with a handful seeds of roses. and most of all, i like the taste of it. but the orange, the one that i adore for having the nutritious ingredients, always has story to tell. since the orange has names of disguise, like tangerine, citroen or lemon. i certainly believe this sufficiently defines one of the qualities of a resourceful stroyteller

it makes a life for the orange lady. you know, the one who spends hours of the day for sitting in market with a basket of oranges inside. her look is wondrous. i know deep down in her heart, she is counting every second to get people paying more attention to her existence, to her oranges. and i can hear the song she sings in her mind. a solemn melody to cheer her oranges and herself, that today they will have a client to take the oranges back home, or to the restaurant's dining hall. to get the oranges shared with the world.

whipped-cream buildings

no one would ever notice how tasty to browse in between palaces of chocolate or colorful sugary buildings. well, that is the impression i get from spending quality times with companions in brugge. we all agree that this vast land is an old one, and therefore the traditions are rigorously preserved. and so are the buildings.

old buildings in this old land are distinctively attractive. the colors of the walls, the window, the fences in the balcony are painted in different colors. the mixture of those colors and the architectures make them like scattered garnishes in a big plate of cake. and the street lamps are from cinnamon. then the tower is covered by chocolate slices. if it is winter, the white sugar cream are there on the street or everywhere else. if it spring, cherries and strawberries bright up the scene.

while walking among those whipped-cream buildings, the air feels so sweet. it gets sweeter when a friend wonders that there should be a kingdom of ants here. i silently agreed with her brilliant comment.

when miss salty was away

where was miss salty?

when miss salty was away, i feel like there was something inadequate here. mr pippy pepper was insight and i have asked him to pour down some of himself into the ocean of carrots, potatoes and cream. but i thought that would be more tasty with miss salty mixes herself in it too. i looked around and wandered through the table, all i saw was bottles, half fulf glasses, the white laced ladies, couples of fork and spoon. where was she? or maybe the local custom does not allow miss salty to be in the public sphere for some particular reasons.

"why they dont have salt on the table..." i mumbled.

a friend with her attentive ears apparently caught it. with her magical moves, she discovered the charming miss salty was hiding behind the cherry kriek bottle.

"here you are" she said.

i was overwhelmed to find that miss salty was not out of reach.

there you were

food gangster and the solar system

never had an idea before that in the city like brussel there are alot of food gangster.

during the walk to find ourselves a decent dinner after the long day for mind's nourishment about the european integration theories and approaches, we found the shortest way to the plaza. the small alleys were packed with restaurants with kinds of menu. in the beginning the place looked interesting as they were nicely decorated, but it turned to be an adventurous struggle for running from a triad chase. like one of the action movie scenes. some waitress were decisively approaching us for a quick introduction about their special dishes. they were so closed as if there was only a-small-needle-distance away from my nose. they did not mind to stop us and aksed us to listen to their introduction. it was horrible yet interesting to know that it also happened in this part of the world. the so called developed world. in fact traders are always tend to be more assertive when the tide of money flows is low. but regardless to the pursuit of wealthy, those food gangster were like an invasion with a fully equipped enforcement.

all in all, the night ended sober. for all of us, the stars were in the right alignment. from the food gangsters brought us to the end of the tunnel. to a wooden floor eating hut with chicken casserole in vanilla sauce. we were accompanied with a friendly old man who served out the dishes and drinks. his glasses and silvery hair put a significant wisdom to his appeareance. one by one the plates were put on the table and we seriously focused ourselves spoon by spoon. of course sometimes words came out for short comments, it was the call back to the earth from the heavenly culinary escape. and then suddenly everything went well again.

high and dry

i watched the morning blue out of the window, there was a vast white line above the ground. i guessed the cold night left its traces in form of condensed air of crystal. the scenery emerged a different sense of solitude. though high speed cars passed by so fast, but their lights can not impede the silence for penetrating my mind. midst of morning dew waved to me along the way to brussel. they made me feel high and dry for bearing the temptation for another short term of hibernating. there is always a restrained sense when a journey starts. whether it is a resilience urge for comfortably settled environment, or an impulsive call for stretching out the horizon. just like lost in the desert with its endless enduring challenges, high and dry. one needs to keep on walking to find something to quench the thirst.

sooner or later, the journey will reach the destination. and the midst will be gone as the sun heats the globe, but in time of silence, the road looked prettier from this side of my window. though the driver was constantly eyeing the road, and others were busy with their minds, but i found a solace to wake up myself.

reflection

a discussion over lunch time had produced a nice conclusion to figure out all the puzzle in reality.

because i am searching, then i discover it. the fact that it has never been missing, yet it takes a journey of re-enlignment to realize that it is always there. the reflection from the mirror might able to give the awareness of its existence.

by the lake we go fishing

hey you, the weather will get windier, so why dont we just throw our bikes and go for fishing by the lake?


in winter the fish will migrate to the warm waters and the lake will be covered with thin ice. then it will be time for skating.


time awaits for nobody, and so does the season...

about the music we play

i always contain an image repository about kinds of music i listen. i like to restore them not because the music is beautifully played, but it is mainly because i admire the musicians who play it with their own style.

once, there was a group from the gypsy land played cheerfully in a lovely mid summer day. people were circling them around, while the sound of the instrument was echoing throughout the big square in front of them.

meanwhile, i can not forget the old couple playing old instruments in the busy street of an old town. they wore traditional clothes and put a chain of flower to crown the head. i dont understand the lyrics, yet their music languange spoke clearly to me.

and out from the crowded street of big city, i enjoyed a trio playing with their instrument in a room that minimally decorated. a mix of sound that resonated the lovely iberia. they played it in nonchalantly manner, but they can describe the mountainous lands and the smile of the locals.

they all transcend all the boundary to speak universally.

when the light shines

a nice day in middle of autumn. when the day gets older, the sun is out there, right in front of the window. smiling in the shimmering yellow hat. i pull the curtain to give a spare of my room in the shadow. but look how the sunlight has done to the map on the wall. it gives a circle of bright yellow over the landscape of some far away places in the north.

when the light shines, it tells me that the northward wind is coming.

a note about the olive's land

i have no idea about this region. untill this autumn i have been exposed to it from articles and discussions in the pieter de la court building. from my personal view, it is like opening the black box and tracing every complexity back to hundred of years ago. from the ottoman empire to the british colonial period. the more i read the less i know. and this morning, one simple fragment appeared before my eyes.

a family lives in the middle of the fertile crescent land. they plant olive trees with hard work and harvest it with their own hands. the old man said this plant is really tough, because it can stand the harsh season of the desert. once the olives are ripes then the trees will bear green fruits that have made the breadwinners feed the children and build the society for centuries. the harverst time is a huge festivity for the family. since a tree can produce a lot of fruits, then it takes a huge labor force to pick the fruit. some people might use modern tool to shake the trees so that the olives will trickle down on the ground like a pouring rain. he said it is not wise enough to deal with plant. after all, farmer has to do everything with their own hands.

from the farmland to the home factory, the olives are stirred, grilled with huge stone wheels so that the very pure oil can be extracted from it. from the green gold to become the true gold of this land. such a high work of alchemy, right?

glimpses of...

the autumn feels milder tonight and it reminds me of a particular journey years ago. i was on the journey to the west part of the middle kingdom, to see the grotto. i departed by night train with regular ticket for one hard-bed during the trip. the train in this land sales a variety of tickets. for those who want to lay down and have proper sleep during the journey, they can choose a ticket for one soft bed or hard bed. and those who can endure the long hours by looking through the window from their seat, they can pick soft seat or hard seat. fair enough, eh? and mine, was the hard bed. there were six bed in the compound, three on each side. and this time i got one in the middle.

the arrival in datong was pretty much anticipated. the mid summer sky greeted me with pouring of light rain. after the first rain, my journey was mostly accompanied by rainy skies. somehow the green grass looked prettier in the grey reflection of the sky. and sometimes the air felt more fresh after the rain. and the big buddha looked greater in its solitude glimpses.

and there was the grotto. not so far from the city. early in the morning, there were not much people visiting that day, or probably because it was summer and the day was long enough, so people can come and go anytime. but my journey was suppose to started early every day since the rain was always following my path of plans, i realized there were road to be measured and journey to be experienced. therefore, the earlier i started the more i can seize the long summer day.
but now the summer has faded and the autumn takes the rule. few summers had gone by but the excitement of those days in datong vividly lingers.

in the midst of the night

the day started with a dense foggy morning. everybody who walked on the street looked like bold shadows, their body rushingly passed by with the echoing sound from their leather heels. but the air gets clearer to night, the fog slowly disolves and leaves the city in the midst of the night.

funicular trip

i want to understand as i should understand. so i decide to take the funicular trip to see whether everything will look differently on the way to the top. the rail makes a heavy sound as the vehicle is dragged slowly from one post to another. and i can see the early evening is coming over the bohemian city down there. dimmed lights, from whatever they are produced, are shining in soft yellow, they complement the painted dark violet and orange above.

i want to understand as i should understand. that is the main reason i take this funicular trip. the way to the top sometimes has to isolate the journey itself from the dizzling crowd. as the cable car inclines, the more trees i see in the forest and the thicker the snow mounting on the ground. i can hear the distant foreign beat carried by the wind, the sound that makes my heart beats lively, as if the life is in the tune itself.

i am not sure whether i have understood as i should have understood, maybe the bird-eye view will give an impressive scene. but it has been an enjoyable one so far...

trip to the lake

me and my bike are good friends. we often wandering around the city in purposes. but today, we were having a good time with the nature. to know the surrounding of the city we live. there is a lake nearby, and we were heading to visit the place. the journey was quite challenging for short trip in the weekend. the sky was pouring down light rains along the journey, i felt the cold penetrated through my feet. but that was not an issue, because it was all worthed.

the small road we guided us to places where we can enjoy the autumn. as the road looked slippery, we felt the trees wishpered the stories when the night come and they can barely see the stars. to imagine how impressive their stargazing has overwhelmed me already.

as we were approaching the lake, i noticed a little haven hanging on the tree. it looked empty, i thought the owners were probably flying somewhere over the grey sky. the winter is coming soon, they have to store enough stock to get through the cold nights.

hoppipolla

to think that time is irreversible, and people get older every day. but there's always a child who will linger. sometimes the child comes up and plays the role which looks immature for the adults. be it selfish or a proportionally ridiculous words. as the time goes by, when can we play as a child would play?

i wonder if we can still let out the child inside us to hit the drum, to play with colors and to imagine all the secrets of this universe could hide. even in time when people aware of our grey hairs and our slow-paced of walk.

staring elf

an elf is waiting for the winter to come. he imagines the roofs where he can slide from the top and land above the mounting thick snow on the ground. look at these houses, the roofs are slightly the same. he wonders how fun it will be to play with snow on top of it, while the chimney sings a sweet lullaby throughout the silent nights.

in the cafetaria

in the cafetaria, you can hear different sounds of mother tongue. they all are spoken almost in the same time. their sounds represent happiness, anxities or selfish comments.

in the cafetaria, people meet up awhile for a short talk during a lunch break. the crowds of people talking with their own signs of communication. a man recites an article from his hometown's newpaper. a waitres offers a set of lunch menu. while girls talk cheerfully, they look so excited. i dont speak their languange at all. yet the diversity they share somehow bright up the afternoon.

the rain tastes like coffee

it is still raining outside. the rainfall is pouring down on earth, and it is time for colors of umbrellas to dance. the air always gets fresher when the rain comes. so it is time for a little walk, enjoying the wet leaves on the ground and the sound of the pourings.

but today the rain tastes like coffee. someone has brought a hot cup of coffee to walk under the rain. the steam of black coffee evaporates in the cold weather. the cup is still half full and the black liquid in it looks so intriguing mysterious. so condensed with lines to share. for the sake of long and comfortable conversation.

and it's a lovely rain with a taste of brewed coffee beans.

pictures in time

it is funny to notice the fragments in our memory sometimes can turn into reality. whether it is only a short melody played in piano by a stranger or an old song broadcasted during the weekend in the radio. words on the wall that refer to certain period in your life. in times of unawareness, you tend to catch glimpses of face that once looked so familiar. i guess this is what people call initial symtomps of self fulfilling prophecy...

west lake

thanks to the repository issue these days, i found some old pictures taken few years ago. which i feel like centuries ago already. it is nice to recall where were those places and who were those people i met during the journeys. some of the pictures have funny caption, which i cant exactly remember what was in my mind when i named them. all in all, name does not matter, to quote the famous words of shakespeare. but picture can tell thousands words, to excerpt a line from an old song.

and now i want to visit the lovely west lake. it was a long day when i visited the west lake. departed from shanghai, i took the regular train. the journey was really nice since i did not lost in translation, indeed i felt like going native. the train was moving to the westward, to hangzhou.

hangzhou is an old city in this part of the far east kingdom. a city of deities and the west lake. there were temples with high towers. and i can see a lot of lotus floating on the green water in the west lake. a city of love. for its stories. a city of legends. for its beauty.

the west lake was shining under the summer sun. it was not too windy, yet the willow trees were lazily swinging in soft breeze. this is the place where the god and goddess live and rule the world. located in the valley and surrouded by mountainous land, the solitude and the scenery of the west lake are its main beauty. poets and artist have written down their hopes and visionary thoughts while enjoying the sunset's reflection on the water. the place where legends of dragon and knights have won the battle against the demon. moreover,some old storytellers whose have made tales and fables, thanks to the inspiration that evaporates from the west lake.

"if the sky has the heaven, then there is hangzhou on the earth"

storagebird

in modern times like the one we live in now, knowledge is constantly changing over time. it gets wider and taller. yet, in the same time we start to questioning our repository's capability in filing in or out those memories we recall every second in our life.

due to this consideration, i guess it's time for me to open the box and take the storagebird out. i'm not daunting the magnificent of mind, nor i disregard the journals or pages for storing my fear and dreams. i'm only concerned about my ability to sort out what is important or not. therefore, i need the storagebird to be my repository. place for those nitty-gritty that i dont have to see it everyday. i'm not reluctant to honour my humanity, i'm just trying to catch up with the fast-changing world around me. whereas a storagebird is the one i need to treasure up all the excessive impression of life.

being the tallest in the city

well, this is not a story about a tall person, or big giant that safe the princess in the tower.

it is about how easy you can be the tallest person in the city. most of the city in europe share a typical architectural pattern in city design. usually every city consists of central and periphery. the central is usually called "the old town" or "the centrum" that most of the prominent building of governments and public services accessibly attached to each other. the town hall, the place where bureaucrats administer the city for centuries and the church are always in the surrounding of main square. in the main square, you can see a fountain right in the middle of it. it is a meeting point for the citizen. a place for twice-a-week-market day or national celebration.

a tower, which is always be the landmark of the city, stands tall for being the symbol of the city's existence. decorated with artistic symbols and located geographically beautiful, the city tower is a must place to visit. just climb those stone stairs, look out the window, or enjoy the scenery from its balcony. then you can simply be the tallest person in the city.

though there's a saying goes that the condition on top sometimes bring a higher chance of risk, or in other words, the higher you are the stronger the wind. but being on top you have the chance to indulge yourself with certain perspectives that might be not usual to your every-day-vision. if you ca enjoy it, then your journey to the top is worthwhile. being the tallest in the city, being the one with expanded insight.

migozarad

it means "it will pass". quoted from the first page of a book that i've been reading recently. regardless of the book's content, this word catches the nuance of today. everything will pass. good or not. like the falling leaves for the coming of winter. no need to be rushed. just wait for a while and be patient.

the mirror has two faces

it is amazing to know how those sentences are the reflection of your own state of mind. supposedly it portrays how you view the world, then they should contain the very essence of the tiny world inside of you.

but after a short break for coffee, why those words now look invariably different from the moment they were written? some appear in disturbing order that made yourself to question what was in your mind while writing those lines. fortunately, you still own the profound self-control, the key for not losing your sanity in vain. as a result, some reasonable lines stay as the way they were written.

indeed, the mirror has two faces. it deceives you as you trust it honestly. and you need to rely on other's existence to show the way they see you. to make you realize that not all of your thoughts can genuinely apply within other's perspectives. you need an editor, to proofread your lines. to decently sort it out.

in the market

one of the favourites in visiting differents places is having a wondrous time in the market. i can not exactly describe why it seems like a wise choice for spending a half day after a tiring exploration throughout the city. but to see those mixed colors of fruits and vegetables in the stalls, always bring my mind wondering where are these items grow, what kind of hands that bear the changing seasons for taking the enduring effort to harvest at last.

i like to sense the sounds over price negotiation, or price condemnation.
but the market always fascinates me for knowing how delicious food in every day's feast can be produced from here.

herbs, fish, spice, basil leaves, apples, magazines, shoes, hats, chicken, voices, songs, medicines, toys, flowers, meat, puppet shows.

help yourself, this place offers you more than you think.

the universal

as he was facing towards the crowd of his own, the artist recited the words for closing the small concert.

let us be one,

as west in the east, and east in the west

like the hot within the heat

the wave in the ocean

the universal of everything

where tiny differences counted for its value

impartial

night at the noordeinde

noordeinde passage never looses its atmosphere of fesitivity. though the sun has set, and sometimes the moon hides behind the cloudy north sea sky. when the streetlights are turned on, and the passage slowly drifting into silence as the last shopkeepers put the alarms on, it is the time for another crowd.

for the dinner time with these ladies and gentlemen

time for fashion show

for the royal's reading club tonight

for new collection to exhibit

and finally, for another shift of timekeeping.

to announce the party will soon be over as the dusk approaching from the east.

the sword and the book

this is a story about the life of time. it never stops moving from one point to another. as long as there is universe to exist, there is always events to take place. the time marks the journey every one of us has to walk on. like a book, a compilation of sequences. time never reverses itself, once given never forgotten. a souvenir. time can be as sharp as knight's sword created with patience of a devoted blacksmith. it is all the matter how we are going to use it.