dolorous interludes.

i spent half the night putting together all my pictures taken during these two years. i only managed to fit in the pictures of year 2002 in that thick fat album which could hold three hundred photos. Photographs are such sentimental things. they serve only as a memory for that moment, and like gleams of light these moments are; they vanish in a second, and fade away in my stack of yesteryear memories stored away in the form of mere photographs. i miss the past, and its strange how on hindsight yesterday was always better though we go through each day thinking that "tomorrowwill be a better day". i am saddened by my great loss of a certain someone; indeed one does not cherish the treasures of our hearts until it is gone from us. i wish to turn back time and feel once more the full intensity of each event and each strand of emotion, but like george eliot who says that"we can no longer recall the poignancy of that moment and weep over it as we do over the remembered sufferings of five or ten years ago. every one of those keen moments has left its trace and lives in us still, but such traces have blended themselves irrecoverably with the firmer texture of our youth" i feel too, that we will never be able to experience that intimate penetration, a revived consciousness of what i have felt then.

"Love is so short, forgetting is so long." i wish this were false, and that the inverse would hold true instead. If Love were long, and forgetting so short, life would be made so much pleasanter; every day would be a day of sunny green pastures with no impulsing desire to look over the fences and to think that the fields at the other end was a better place. there would be no place for cravings of yellowed yesterdays, and there would be little sentimentalism and nostalgia. my friend was right. she told me the other night that she could not wait to plunge headon into the corporate world because where there is fancy and sentimentalism in a world like mine, she would be susceptible to vulnerability, and she wishes not to be frail nor foolish. how then. must i throw away all books of memory and capacity for feeling and wear my armour and take on my shield? if this were true, id like for someone to buy me a pretty pink armour suit if you may, pretty please.

posted by voyeur @ 11/26/2003 05:32:00 PM