Please tell Laura I love her

All the time you are here, on the side of my house, prying, and waiting for just one chance. Yet I never notice. 

Now I hear your whisper, a warm hello, in my ear. But I feel it is winter, and I see snow.

People say nothing can be too late. Just learn and improve. But I can be too late to have noticed you.

Please tell Laura I love her.

  *** And this was last heard from a little black beetle.


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My Totem Poles

I admire, and wonder while reading "Calling of the Arctic" (极地的呼唤）by Michio Hoshino. I wonder if I have disturbed the spirits that are sleeping in the land I journey around. 


Shall I find any totem poles? And could I follow any native legend of Ravens or alike? 

I find sunlight that arrives from somewhere 150 million km away, still bright and beautiful to trigger a long story . I find spiders, and I find critters, which form icons of the jungle.

I find monkeys that inherit the jungle. May I derive an answer if I look deep into its wild, big black eyes for long enough?

Does the monkey look for the same through my eyes? 


Do I need to remove my scratched and oily spectacles in turn? But Presbyopia may distort a supposed ridiculous answer to the worst. 


We shall be equally misunderstood by then. And I continue to admire and wonder.


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I Am Sure It Is Spring

And I would continue to caress this beauty of Nature of the same day in this post, that was never the same again in the eye of my camera the following week when I returned to Cerok Tokun,

just like how I am in the eyes of Mrs. Rainfield now and the time when I dated her. She always complains. I grow older without getting any more wiser. 

If observing further, she may start to collect, one by one, the wonders of an old man, just like what I am doing to Cerok Tokun,

though Cerok Tokun is very much older than me, and is billions of years old, she still keeps her beauty, the inimitable beauty.

Link to: Your Sunday Best

This Must Be Spring

I always think Malaysian spring stays in dictionaries, but my camera shows me the other way round. This is fun.

And of course this is the joy of living outdoor, and go hiking that I have never missed, when I see a butterfly fluttering about in the white spots of sunshine. Is snow melting?  And spring is approaching, flowers are blooming.

There are far too many clicks I have done in the morning, that was not easy to stop. I stop to check and preview,

because a butterfly flies away with time, while the Sun shall glare in no time,

flowers are pretty, but will not anymore, of the perception of a camera.

I am starting to collect, one by one, the wonders of beauty that I have long foregone.

What does 1-1 Equal ?

Facing the bright broad sky I always think, time may not be a good teacher in some cases, personal feelings then prevail, and wrong doings land both ends on a lose-lose dilemma.

But then, can a good cancel a bad? Or is the effect of a bad always heavier than a good?

That looks simple, but it never be an easy mathematics when a good is represented by a +1, and a bad by a -1.

Can 1-1 equal to 0? This doubts me.

Link to: Your Sunday Best

Our Ways, Our Lives

I have no winter, and spring in dictionaries. I hike as when I like. Leaving a fallen tree on the ground, the shoots sprout whenever they want. These are our lives.

Birds do not have sweat glands, those shoots too. This is the difference between me and them. Birds fly away because of my beads of perspiration.

The shoots cannot. Never think they have to run away, though confusedly they are in a havoc, as we can see in the second picture. The reason? They have no nose.

I observe many interesting lives, thus always in upclose, and enjoy pretty moments on my hikes, though I am soaked.

These are our ways, our lives.


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Your Sunday Best at A Rural Journal