Funny how I thought I'd be happier coming back at the start; funny how I grew to get used/love(?) Africa gradually, funny how I thought I was ready to come back, funny how I cried the moment I got back. Sometimes our minds work in strange ways, and its weird that I have so many thoughts running through my head now and yet I can't put a single one down in words, coherently. Okay maybe I'll try
so
C-Africa'08 was
an experience.
That's all,
and right now if anyone tells me they are screwed for blocks, all the deserve is a big slap across their face. Unless they've been to Africa too for the past 17 days and like me, have chem bio math econs to study for in their entirety.
I'm sorry if I don't sound like me, right now I feel like I
Back to the street, down to our feet Losing the feeling of feeling unique
So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days you can hear their chorus rushing past: IwasabeautifulgirlPleasedon’tgoItoobelievemybodyismadeofglassI’veneverlovedanyoneIthinkofmyselfasfunnyForgive me…
There was a time when it wasn’t uncommon to use a piece of string to guide words that otherwise might falter on the way to their destinations. Shy people carried a little bundle of string in their pockets, but people considered loudmouths had no less need for it, since those used to being overheard by everyone were often at a loss for how to make themselves heard by someone. The physical distance between two people using a string was often small; sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for the string.
The practice of attaching cups to the ends of the string came much later. Some say it is related to the irrepressible urge to press shells to our ears, to hear the still-surviving echo of the world’s first expression. Others say it was started by a man who held the end of a string that was unraveled across the ocean by a girl who left for America.
When the world grew bigger, and there wasn’t enough string to keep the things people wanted to say from disappearing into the vastness, the telephone was invented.
Sometimes no length of string is long enough to say the thing that needs to be said. In such cases all the string can do, in whatever its form, is conduct a person’s silence.
Sometimes it feels like yesterday and sometimes it feels like someone else's memory
Trust is a fragile thing. Once earned, it affords us tremendous freedom. But once trust is lost, it can be impossible to recover. Of course the truth is we never know who we can trust. Those we're closest to can turn around and betray us, and total stranges can come to our rescue. In the end, most people decide to trust only themselves. It really is the simplest way to keep from getting burned.
But you know what? There are a people I trust even though it eludes me why. Maybe its the blind faith I'm putting in them in hopes that I'm right; or maybe its because they've entrusted me with a part of them and I somehow feel like I have to reciprocate. There are a thousand maybes; a thousand reasons why. I spend a lot of time looking for reasons and answers, but you just can't find what's not there.
