Mumbles of a Mind - English

Mumbles of a Mind 2009 – 2012 two to five years ago Peeraya Suphasidh

“A human being is a part of a whole, called by us “universe”, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest... a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

- Albert Einstein

17-2-2553

I once read that one year of life lived would produce less than 40 pages of a book.

Maybe it’s true. I read more that keeping a journal is like having a conversation with oneself – is not too much out of my routine. Yes. Today we saw a peacock at my aunt’s house. The bird then went up our rooftop and disappeared. Such a large bird I’ve never seen strayed before. Excited. Today we picked Ida from the airport, who flew in somewhere from Germany, who drove from Copenhagen to save 10000 Kr. University – another nearing question. How is it going to turn out to be. Europe would be one of the first priority, though a seemingly less likely one. I listened to a song, it goes “when you’re weak, look back at all the distances you’ve come”. I liked that sentence. My dream of becoming a film director is nearing its end. End of a party. A kiss on your cheek – goodbye.

30-08-2553

The United State is unlike Denmark in my mind. Everything here is still and quiet. (Not so many smiles, like Ms. Markie? And this is not referring that Ms. Markie is at all no good. That is not the case.) It’s just not how I have imagined. I can’t tell how it’s going to be like next. I’m currently in a basement in Queens, NYC at my uncle’s house for the second day. This room is not too large or small, I’m still exhausted from my travels, all the time. Hopefully this goes away soon.

31-08-2553

I feel unwell but we are going to “Atlantic City� tomorrow...

09-01-2554

goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye time.

Nothing is newer than old.

Nothing more in the air than in space.

How much does the mass of time weight? look look look look look cat mother father brother grandmother grandfather home How much does a weight of time cost?

Nothing weights more than a bird’s feather.

Nothing is lighter than a stomach’s content.

If all goes black and white, everything may be less messy.

I don’t think they will exist any longer. everything everything everything void void void void void void water water water water still still still still still still light light light light light light light light light light light light light light light light The most precious thing is the lightest thing.

09-01-2553

Conscious conscious conscious awake awake worm speak speak speak worm it is important to keep your workds pink water in the ear watch food Cut all your dark hair and open your eyes to say goodbye to the illusion that make everything dark.

The very truth is that everything still is, no matter if we see them with our own opened eyes or not.

Still would not dissolve the stones in our eyes that will make everything clearer.

That everything is dependent on other does not make us less caged. frog frog frog end

end

11-01-2554

sometimes we would hold our breaths to hear the beatings of our hearts. sometimes we must hold our breaths to hear the beatings of our hearts.

Would I hold my breath just to hear your heart beat?

But in the end, nothing is lonelier than that of the last heartbeat.

14-01-2554

Goodbye goodbye. What colors are the insides of your eyes?

What colors are in your eyes?

What color is the sea?

Don’t worry. Don’t worry, that your face will be forgotten.

Whenever you see your sister please let her know that being on her own from times to times may make her forget the entity of other beings.

Thinking in picture, sometimes, maybe not be as complex as thinking in words.

None the less, nothing gives more meaning than the void we all pretend not to see , or things dropped on the ground pretending not to be dirty.

Change. How much will change with time and place? Once, we held on to places that was static through the changes, now we become attached to change itself. Waiting for something to change while, not being to find the right proportion of now will only repel us from the current realness. Sometimes too far away.

16-01-2554

Some are too fast to be able to see.

Some are too slow to be able to see.

See what?

17-01-2554

What is an empty body?

19-01-2554

Coat. Many black coats combined to make up a body of a whale.

There are many unseen things under the deep ocean. Different species of seaweeds tangles to make up a big raft that would let nothing pass, not even the sky’s light.

Above there, the sky is endless. There are many species of birds up in the sky, many different kinds of feathers painting the endless sky. Sometimes the red balloon floats by the sky into outer space. The endless void in outer space is flawless. Beautiful. It is a place without any color, not even the gradient shades in-between black and white.

Void. The hollow void in outer space explodes all the balloons that floats into it and thus disappear forever. Leaving behind only what it once was. Nobody would encrypt them in their memory.

Nobody remembers. Even the balloon owners would forget that once the balloon was theirs. Sooner or later, in a time that spans between five years and one second, they would run into something more attractive such as the whales in the deep seas or the colorful birds in the endless sky.

Everyone would look around themselves and be flattered by every tangible things such as air or water in the sea. Looking down to see the sea, looking up to see the sky.

The mass of air is still there, even when nobody gives it any thought. The red balloon once went, there through the layers of air, even though nobody remembers.

20-01-2554

If today, the day after tomorrow, or any other day merge into one same day everyday fuses into one – no differentiation – no start – no anniversaries if time is not marked down as passing – no signs – looking at it as a single entity – there would no longer be a need for erasure – no hiding in tomorrow or yesterday –no more being lost in time – no excuses.

21-01-2554

More than 0 is just 1 Say if we only know 1 person in this whole world maybe then that would be an equivalent of knowing 1,000,000 people since if counting from 0 exponentially is equally infinite. therefore there must be no real need to know 1,000,000 people because 1,000,000 is no further, exponentially, away from 0 than 1 is What if 0 remains 0, would it exponentially be more valuable than 1 or 1,000,000?

I wonder.

24-01-2554

A person without face is like a page without a picture.

26-01-2554

Hello air, please suffocate me.

The smell of the flowers makes me jump.

28-01-2010

There is no place larger that the inside of a whale’s stomach.

Its content is forever swaying, never ending, in the bottomless ocean.

If comes a chance once could lay down inside this endless place for a day or two, one might realize that the noises and happenings in a city is nothing worth concerning about as much as one currently does.

Time won’t flow backward once swallowed by this big whale, it will all fuse into one – no differentiation between past, present, and future.

Inside of this stomach will be stillness, deep hole surrounded by the stars.

If one could rest there inside its stomach one may find the true meaning of being still and that there is such a thing. The endless vastness of the stomach of a whale may be the only thing one continue to yearn for.

05-02-2554

Goodbye little brown bird, purple bums, curled black eye lashes, light pink tip of an ear, quiet hours, no excitement, neon nails, walls with rope attached, hung from it all sources of things. Light pink stones follow one another in a line that make up a delicate bracelet that brings luck which does not seem to actually exist. Goodbye pail thin finger with large joints, tight joints. The sound of an ocean’s wave freezes what seems to be in a middle of a wrinkle. The most constant and precise measurement of time is the rate in which the hair grow, with having to rush. Little blue porcelain doll. The movement of a slug caused a hole somewhere in space. The melody along with the movements of the ballet dancers urged all the trees to come out to the sun. Different kinds of insects have been collecting nuts in preparation for the winter.

07-02-2554

I would love to love you.

10-02-2554

Blah blah black sheep, no more teeth left in your mouth.

22-02-2554

1.

2.

1.

2.

Vastness equals everything if air equals vastness.

Vastness un-equals vastness if air un-equals air.

Vastness un-equals everything if air un-equals vastness.

Because the mass of air un-equals 0 therefore the mass of everything un-equals 0 therefore the mass of air un-equals the mass of everything mass equals mass air equals everything Because the mass of air un-equals 0 Therefore the mass of vastness equals 0 Therefore the mass of vastness un-equals the mass of air because vastness does not have a mass

Is there so no more mass left in the air?

22-02-2554

A droplet dropped upward combined into a lake.

Once in a while, blue birds came to play.

Blue-feathered water droplets, blue birds Blue bird bathed Looks downward to see many different beings They loved looking at them humans.

Looked and giggled.

Not understanding what they do.

Blue-feathered water droplets keep dropping upward, endlessly.

Up so far the blue birds can no longer arrive.

Eventually the droplets stop dropping upward they have come through the earth’s atmosphere, upward, and felt the weightlessness of its own entity thus stop dropping, perhaps because it no longer knows which direction it should drop to.

22-02-2554

Someday when she is idle she would come out and think.

Sometimes about that public park close by her house sometimes she would come out to solve mathematical problems just to not be bored.

Sometime when she is not idle, she would not come.

Every fingers of the hand, especially the little finger, are so frail.

Powerless, nobody tells of what was wrong.

She could not tell what was wrong.

Her sundress is often touched by the wind.

Pigeons fly by, searching for a stranger that would drop a piece of bread, especially her.

Nowadays she comes out here every day, even in the days when she is not idle.

The old man who sells cotton candy recognizes her from afar.

The breeze carries with it the end of her long skirt, but not her body.

Even with everything left behind, she still would not float.

She left everything behind to be.

27-02-2554

Without the right explanation, the color of air makes everything clearer. no? but it does influence how one take in the sense of sight. The numbness in the senses has affects over the connectivity of everything. If one can no longer feel the water in the ocean or the leaves that flutters with the wind, there might no longer be any point in trying to sense any other things. (Other things such as the grain of the sand, gravel in the soil, or mountain ranges.) Moving in between one place to another without allowing any pause does not mean that the distances between the two places can be precisely measured. That everything is light does not mean that everything is weightless. That something is non-existing does not mean that it equals 0. That something is existing, too, does not mean that it equals 0. Movement of one’s entity does not mean that the adjacent air will, too, be in motion. The movement of air, thus, does not imply that one’s entity will, too, be in motion. Hearing a sound does not mean that the sound has a definite source. Having a definite source of sound, thus, does not imply that there would be sound made. The tiny speckles of light we see while we face upward to the night’s sky does not imply that they are generated by stars. They may be anything, anything at all without any guaranteed predicament of what they are. Or perhaps they are nothing at all, thus equals 0.

05-02-2554

one day equals 1 one week equals 1 one month equals 1 one year equals 1 ten days equals 1 ten weeks equals 1 ten months equals 1 ten years equals 1 one hundred days equals 1 one hundred weeks equals 1 on hundred months equals 1 one hundred years equals 1 1 is a mere duplication of itself, how much of it would you want?

05-03-2550

fish swim around no ti me bl bl ah ah which way no place fi fi sh sh sheep bah bah frog ob ob cat meaw meaw bird jib jib fish blah blah

05-03-2553

The star merchant carries many many stars, he has been storing them in the sky.

The cost of a star is not that high. The star merchant goes places carrying his stars in the sky for sale. Sometimes passerby stops to questions and give interest. The star merchant only works at night because he can’t see his stars during the times of day.

Some lucky night when a star is sold, he is over joyed. One star does not cost much, anybody can possibly afford one. The prices of stars differ according to their classification: a comet is 5฿, a falling star is 12฿, a guiding star is 15฿, a planet is 100฿, which ever you like. The star merchant carries a sky full of stars for sale. Once in a while somebody would ask if he has any moons, the star merchant would reply, “No, I only carry stars.”

09-03-2553

Buy me with you?

Can you buy you with me, yes?

10-03-2553

An escapist escapes everywhere, running up, running down.

Looking left, looking right. Lay his body flush against the ground. Never to stop. Escape up and down, dodging left and right. Nobody is following; nobody knows who you are escaping from.

11-03-2553

A forest is covered with green pine trees with needle-like leaves.

Summer through winter, the needle-like leaves remain the same shade of green. Some group of rainy deer nibble on the grass below the pine trees. Sometimes they would look up to its rich green color of the needle-like leaves – they see that the green above is much richer than the ones they have been grazing on. The green is even richer that that of the summer grass. Those rainy deer all ponder on the relationship between the shade of green on the needle-like leaves above and that of the grass below. The more they look at the two, the more they wonder.

They observe the similarities between the characteristics of the two different kinds of leaves. How astounding! Not only do they share the hue of green, they also share the pointy thin leaf structure. But the deer are not certain if the green of the needle-like pine leaves and that of the ground grass would also share a similar taste.

25-03-2553

Star powders felt down all over the ground.

We all collected those powders with much joy and pride. Nobody else collected them like we do. The star powder does not worth a thing. If we weight them for sale they would cost even less than recycled paper. We wait to collect these star powders, they fall everywhere, all over the ground. Sometimes when the weather allows, we you take out our collection of powders and look at them only among us. Passerby might think that we have gone mad, but we all know that they know nothing.

14-05-2535

This time or that time, no time is of exactly the same time. We all choose to store some time with our memory. Perhaps because it is merely impossible to store all the time we have. We choose to think of them sometimes, bring back a certain time and reuse it without ends. But actually the things that come through this time storage of ours is not determined solely by us. The unpredictable possibility in which everything cold have played out is the very verdict that there is no real know of “certainty�. The time that would follow ours is in an unpredictable shapes, perhaps it is also that we ourselves have no control of which fragment of time we eventually store.

21-03-2553

If we do meet again, your fading face and voice and words that you have said to me may prove themselves to be clear again.

05-02-2554

Goodbye little brown bird, purple bums, curled black eye lashes, light pink tip of an ear, quiet hours, no excitement, neon nails, walls with rope attached, hung from it all sources of things. Light pink stones follow one another in a line that make up a delicate bracelet that brings luck which does not seem to actually exist. Goodbye pail thin finger with large joints, tight joints. The sound of an ocean’s wave freezes what seems to be in a middle of a wrinkle. The most constant and precise measurement of time is the rate in which the hair grow, with having to rush. Little blue porcelain doll. The movement of a slug caused a hole somewhere in space. The melody along with the movements of the ballet dancers urged all the trees to come out to the sun. Different kinds of insects have been collecting nuts in preparation for the winter.

24-03-2553

Little horse in a forest field of grass river stream bird.

31-03-2553

The realization of reality is by far the most overlooked necessity

01-04-2553

Two large wooden house stand right next to one another, with one another.

In the left one lives a woman who often wears a yellow sunhat who often sits at the backyard of the house. She likes to stroll around the perimeter of the house, around the house. Sometimes the whether does not permit her though then she would sit and look out from the window of the house, toward her favorite green yard outside. But if the weather permits, she would always take a stroll around the house, almost always. In the right house lives an old man by himself. There is a grey cat who keeps his company, who also catches the mice. The old man does not like to go outside, not very much. Every day, he stays in the living room with his favorite architectures book. He likes to look into the picture of those books, they would take him places. Not often does he look outside of his window - there is nothing interesting there. It is a mess inside his house. He has no time to clean or arrange all the things in which he owns. He spends all his time looking into the pictures in the many books.

As he looks through them, it is as if he is physically at those places. This makes him forget completely that he spend all his time alone in the big house. Some day when he has no architecture book to look at (this maybe because he has misplaced them, his house is truly a mess after all) he would take an unconscious peek outside of his window. If that day happens to be the day that the weather allows, he would see a woman with a yellow sunhat strolling around the house next to his own. Every time he sees her he can’t help but wonder why is it she is not bored yet by this world (or is it only himself who is boring?).

02-04-2553

Sleeping, letting the body rest letting the mind flow along the realness of what is in a dream may be the only way one could bear to live with reality one wake to face when the time to sleep seizes to exist. Sometimes one can re-enact reality in one’s dream, so real one can barely distinguish between the two; especially when the dream is constructed with every single details of reality. The realness in one’s dream will eventually diminish one’s ability to distinguish between the two; there is only on reality the other is a mere thing oneself have created. The endless reenactment of reality that occurs in dreams may be.

02-04-2553

Slowly do things.

Everything needs doing.

Slowing, no need to rush.

05-04-2553

A long asphalt have been cut for a long time now, but sill there runs no car. Some day when it rains, the water droplets seeps through its surface, breaking it in the process. This asphalt road was built for a while now, yet not many people use it. Not for long and with time, it start to degenerate – large cracks and cradles start to form. After some times, small plants start to sprout in those holes. Those little plants push their ways with their roots, through the asphalt and eventually into the ground. After some times, the grey surface of the asphalt gets cover by different shades of green. Those little plants, with time and sunlight, grows into large strong trees. One day long after comes a sunflower seed merchant, looking for the asphalt road. He knows not that the asphalt road has long fused completely with the rest of the forest. The sunflower seed merchant does not think of it much, he understands that his map has an error and continued with his sunflower seed card, looking for the asphalt road.

05-04-2553

Going places, she tells no one, she lets them wait. Sometimes for years, she let them wait.

07-04-2553

An athlete runs a little bit around a public park every second Monday’s morning of a month.

Although he would have much preferred to run every other days, his schedule kept him from finding the time. His office is only right next to the park that he runs, the very view from his window is that of his routine track – tree canopies hovering over smaller ones, looking like little bushes from his office high above.

If his head start hurting from stress he would lay it down and close his eyes. Lay his thought down from all the draining calculations of difficult mathematics problems. If closing his eyes does not get rid of the pain, he would look outside then look down to the green grass and with his eyes follow the people that come to run. He would imagine most recent second Monday’s morning of the month, or sometimes of the wind that would kiss his face whist running, or sometimes of the smell and touch of the green grass he touches as he rests. By thinking about the time he gets to run in the public park, he almost always is able to relieve a little of the pain in his head. The fact that he sees himself as an athlete does not necessary means that he has to run for a living. Although he knows that he is the happiest man on every second Monday’s morning of the month and that working on mathematical problems in an office high above the ground may not be the things he loves most. But at least he can look at his public park from his office room every other day; otherwise he might have been tormented to death.

09-05-2553

Please tell me why the water runs down the mountain, keep flowing down and down – never ending – today or any other day, never ending.

Millions of droplets of water swims in one another together, combine into a giant weight of water. It rushes down the mountain, no minding if there is anything in its way. It does not mind the little seedlings of grass, the frail insects that walk about the grounds, or even the slow caterpillars that have yet morphed into a butterfly. The mass of water cares about no one – trees roots that have yet grown into one with the ground and little animals that were playing about the days were all taken with this body of flowing water. The water keeps flowing down the mountain, nobody ever asked it why. Even those little roots and meek animals that has been taken with it never even wonder why. The droplets of water themselves may also never even asked the question to one another, never wonder how far down they all will take each other. Down and down, never ending, taking every loose things in its path with it, to keep its company. The droplets of water that gathered into the weight of water do not know their origin, nobody does.

Please tell me why the water keeps running down the mountain and how far will they flow? No one knows how much further down goes the mountain, no one ever asks.

12-04-2553

The gate opens every 5:00 PM on a Saturday. People walks in and out – a hectic scene. The sounds of feet stomping are loud and without rhythms. It is sometimes a little tragic, the way nobody really listens to them. Everybody rushes in such hurry going places, - no body waits for anybody.

No problem, no likely. The sounds made with stomping feet may not feel any sadness. Sometimes when the rain falls, the echoing of the stomping sound would be a little stranger than normal, but nobody would realize, nobody hears the strange difference, Nobody knows. stomp stomp. Whose is whose? stomp stomp. Nobody knows where the stomping sounds are coming from. stomp stomp. Nobody minds the stomping sounds. stomp stomp. Nobody minds the sounds. stomp stomp . The sound of no importance. blah blah.

12-04-2553

Transposing memories – one over another many layers – crushes the memories that are on the bottom portion of the pile of memories – flattening them into unrecognizable shapeless forms. But that does not make them any less or more significance. What does this mean?

What does the things that have taken place mean?

How much significance do they hold or have to hold? Why?

12-04-2553

Ultimately, how are we inter-related with the things that surrounds us?

Even just the blink of an eye does not change anything – endless boundary of the universe – even the mind seizes to draw its enclosure.

14-04-2553

wick and weak and without motions does not means that is near death throat is far from the heart.

15-04-2553

When everyone was free, they all came outside to play.

Someday they played the piano; someday they played in the water.

The little duck mole quickly became an easy prey; the little hunters threw mud at it without pity.

Nobody touched the violin for weeks, by the time they got back to it, all its string have fallen out.

Everyone grew up. Nobody knows anybody anymore.

They played without knowing each other’s name anymore.

The piano has gone out of tune for years.

Nobody has been playing the right pitch, but nobody knew the odd differences.

The water they once swam in now has all evaporated. The sun cast its light until there were only marks on the ground left.

Nobody minded. They all went into the dried hole in the ground, throwing dry mud at one another, soaked with dust. They acted like children, only nobody remembered. Nobody remembered what their favorite colors were, or the names they used to call each other by.

The little duck mole that used to be their merciless prey now had probably aged and died. Nobody managed to find or see it. Nowadays nobody plays anymore. The names they do not even remember anymore. Now everybody just sits idle at home, nothing to do.

17-04-2553

Everybody misses the large rain drops, we all loved playing with the rain.

18-04-2553

Father, I am slowly going insane.

19-04-2553

the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month

third

third the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month the eighteenth of the third month

your time stopped here mine does not my time time do we remember reality your time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped time my time my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped my time stopped like an insect that got stuck in the sap of a tree

25-04-2553

Do not want to see anymore.

Please leave it alone,

29-04-2553

Fifteen leaves laid straight in a line, laid in a line in front of the wall that went around her house. One day, incidentally the wind did not blow, not even one bit. - even the sea horses and the mermaids hung still in the air - She walked out of the house, opened the gate slowly and walked out to do things that nobody knew about, whereabouts. Nobody could read her mind, more so not her body languages – the words she used rare matched that in her mind. Fifty leaves lay in a straight in front of her house. Nobody knew when she paid them down. Maybe it was during the evening time where everybody sat down for dinner with family members or the time nearing dawn where everybody still lay in a deep sleep, swimming in the deep pool of dreams. Nobody know why she lay down all those leaves; they were not even certain that it was her doings. No wind blew for fifteen days. The day the wind blew again, hard, it will take with it the leaves in straight lines, to a place nobody knew about. The next day laid anew in front of her house. Only one a day, in a beautiful line they laid until the hard wind take them to a place nobody knew about. Then there came anew, laid one after another, from where they knew nothing about as well.

02-05-2553

She says if she has five fishes she would call them from the number one to five. If she has five of herselves she would call herselves by the number on to five in another language. (Does not know which language yet.) She likes numbers; number from many different languages. She likes counting from one to five in varying languages; one to five in a different languages all means the same thing. She never understands why the pronunciations of each have to differ. Does not understand why there should be any variations when they are all the very same thing. She continues to count from ones to fives. Many different languages. The number ones to fives. She never understands why the variations. Counting.

03-05-2553

Wait for me, for two years’ time.

Get married when we turn twenty-two.

Would this be too much, to ask?

25-05-2553

Hell, no.

16-08-2553

Moment of Unrelativity.

18-08-2553

Stop now! You storm and clouds. Stop, do not come! Stop!

You, windy rain and humidity. Stop the black ants from climbing to high places. Stop them from devouring big and small planets!

The black holes! Stop, stop stop! Stop, do not move anymore!

Do not move or make any changes! Stop using, gaining and losing!

You have always said that you alone are not capable of stopping anything.

It was not as easily done as everyone have said it to be. You kept on mumbling words which nobody can grasp on their meanings, threw them out until there was nothing. You tried to filter the ones that does not mean anything but it did not make much differences.

The most important things were not the things you were trying to say but rather the things that you were trying to do. The fact that you still mumble words that does not string together any meanings. It does not matter if you said anything, it mattered more if there were anybody listening. Nobody tried to ask you why you have not tried to speak nay clearer or increase your volume just one bit. They all just listened, listened to your soft mumbles without knowing any of its meanings. This may though be better than not saying anything at all because at lease there were people listening to your voice.

Better than not saying anything at all – if so, then nobody would gather and listen to you at all.

19-08-2553

At the top of a lung, scream, loudness echoing throughout the entire forest.

She screamed at the top of her lungs. Stretched and kicked with all her might, her wit uncontrollable. She went mad sometimes walking there and back, around the big tree, nobody saw here. Her hand held a tight fist, her nails breaking through a little of her skin, her feelings nobody knows. She screamed at the top of her voice, her body against the ground, with the dirt and the dead leaves. Her legs and arms swing with all her strength into thin air, did not caused a sound. Her eye lashes and lids were soaked. She screamed at the top of her little voice, until her voice went away.

Kicked and ran until her strength, too, went away. Her body, exhausted, rested itself in a loose curl on a moist ground. Small and large animals walked over and passed her body. Droplets of rain wetted the ground. She moves her limbs to feel the death the seeping out of those leaves, her fingers and toes anchored into the ground that was then soaked. The roots grew amongst the numbness of her body. The little grains of ground went into her head through where her hair once grew and in-between her nails and fingers. She finally closed her two eyes, her blood felt just like the rain. Her breath drew softly the moist in the air. She said her last words as silent as a whisper. Her fingers and toes tensed themselves without letting her know. Her legs and arms did not find their right place. She finally felt to sleep. Her body lay still in the middle of the nameless rain forest, nobody knew where. Her face was flushed with the ground, except for her the opening of her nose and mouth. The rain felt against the skin.

21-08-2553

Tiring summer. Did not do a thing. Tiring. Wasting. Tiring without an end. No thrill. No new. Tiring. Tiring. Blame who? Blame what?

No place new. Worrying weight. Cannot go places. Slow. Slime.

Full. Flow. Circle. Nothing. Who. Why. No reasons. Alone. Old Place.

Heavy. Summer. Two thousandth and tenth. No destination. Nothing remarkable. Tight. Same. No forwarding. Rash. Idle. No motivation.

Bitter. Empty. No motivation. Still. Quiet. Want. But no. The possibility.

Little heart that went there. Let it lead. Tired. Possibilities. If yes then what?

Answer. Reason. The ability to do. Understanding. Size. Comparison.

Comparative. Around. Moving. Missing. Sliding. No in any particular place. A face. A blink.

26-09-2553

Endless field of green – everyone came out to play, weariless.

Endless field of green without an entrance or an exit – everybody all dreamt of this endless field of green. They all wondered and searched for an entrance but none succeeded. Rumors had it that there was none. Endless field of green with an unimaginable openness – there was neither an entrance nor an exit – everyone came out to play. Perhaps it was a place of mere passing through nobody knew, they could only imagine the endless field of green.

Never ending, goodbye. Goodbye endless field of hectic space, though nobody did say goodbye. Goodbye endless stories that do not strike meanings. Nobody said a word to the city, they all held it tight, saying it was necessary and so on. Goodbye unnegotiable field of grass, we all are too busy to play with you. Goodbye. Never meeting you. You are without entrance and exit. We would all be baffled by the slow wind and the stillness that would drive us insane. We will not visit you, only think of and dream of in a small portion in our heavy heart.

27-09-2553

Nobody. There are no body left on the thin face of the earth. The air got so light, nobody could any longer breathe. The water in the sea floated all over, they are easily blown all over the place. Nobody lives here anymore. The ground is soaked by the newly fallen rain. The sound of the waves hitting the shore rhymes in a steady rhythm. Each grain of sand followed the traces of those ways, imprinting their motions. The sun cast a steady glow warming and lighting everything. Each little droplets of water falls in order inside a cave deep in a forest. The moist from the rain moves through a warm humid forest, cooling along its path. Nobody lives here anymore. The surface of the earth is bare. The sky alternates its colors; sometimes glares with the sun, sometimes twinkles with countless starts. Clouds flow into those lights sometimes. Something under the depth of the sea is being translucent. It is too bad that nobody is here anymore, otherwise they could have seen.

02-10-2553

0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55

08-10-2553

Circle. Compass. Circle. Around, nowhere from. Around, no direction. Large library. Blue sea water. Toe under tree leaves.

Light. Step, step, step. Step nineteen times one moves one hundred meters straight toward the end of the road. No stillness one yearns for. No stillness in the air. Step straight toward the house near the woods. A beautiful fish pond, the water inside was will.

It would be as fidget as the air above it. There is no reflection, no ripple, and no fish. There are only ones that step straight toward it, toward its emptiness. There are only ones that yearn for its emptiness, the non-existence of the water matter. They all taught themselves to believe that they would find it here, by the pond. The truth is that they are wholly non-existence, no matter at what place. They all drop themselves onto the bottomless pond. Their body lay still in the depth that does not exist.

11-10-2553

Disappeared. No on looked. Disappeared.

No one followed. A place far away, so far no one could find her scent. No question.

Everything held still, but did not stop. Her disappearance did not change how the morning air would turn out. The wind still came by and back. No one was certain if she had actually disappeared or that she actually had never existed in the first place.

She was the topic of conversations once in a while; especially on days that it rained so thin it was almost only mists. No one know exactly what had happened. No body instigated the areas where she could have been. Her apartment left empty, nobody thought to do anything. No body could confirm that she did actually existed. It was only normal that nobody did anything when she actually disappeared. It may be natural to only interpreted that she never really existed at all.

13-10-2553

Nobody could go anywhere without putting their shoes on, the floor of the room is very dirty. Little and large pieces of trash lay around on every square inches of the carpeted surface.

It could have been fatal if one touches the floor directly with bare feet. Or at least the foot had to be cut off to prevent infections to other parts of the body. Shoes then became a natural necessity, a necessary necessity if one wish to traverse elsewhere. It is funny to say that because nobody really did try to walk bare feet on the floor before. Nobody would have risked their favorite foot or their precious life on such irrational experiment. They all tried their best to find the very best shoes their lives’ earning could find to protect their feet from coming in contact with the floor. Nobody wanted anything to do with the little and large pieces of trash lying around. They did not want to think of them; never did wish to be near them. They all tried their hardest to avoid coming into contact with the trash. Nobody never really tried so nobody really knew. But nobody minded, they never cared a damn to begin with any ways. Poor floor, nobody ever swept or clean you.

28-11-2553

We exchanged our stores with one another, so fun. The story lines tangled together, could not find its meaning. They went in circle, no beginnings or ends. Paused and closed our eyes sometimes. When everyone was tired, we all shut up. No time to tell stories, to make stories, to write stories, no mood to pause. Nobody had the heart to listen anymore so we all stopped without anyone appointing. Everyone started to get tired at the same time. Good bye, we say. Nobody turned back and look at one another. Nobody went back. The stores we used to exchange all went away, like someone had erased when we were not looking. We never noticed, all have been forgotten with ease. Nobody cried or mourned, all continued on the direction we once came from. As if nothing had happened. The stories we once exchanged were all fictions anyway.

28-12-2553

Of no harm. Nobody did anything with her harmlessness. Walking along, nobody would thought that she breaths storms. She steps out earthquakes. Her heart beats underwater turbulences. The blink of her eyes stirs the clouds in the sky. When she cries, there comes the big flood. She may looks as sweet as tea leaves, but at night she could not sleep. She watches her body, carefully, not to cause any natural disaster.

She does not want to trouble anyone. At time when she is burdened with sadness, she may not cry for fear of flooding the little village at the foot of the mountain.

When she walks about, everyone adore her careful movements, her consciousness of every parts of her body. She gets comfortably numb but her mind must be strong to not cause any sudden change in the weather. It might have been better if there is someone who would invent a medicinal pill that would forever cure all her symptoms so she could lead a normal life. Or if only that someone understands and care to study her abnormalities for their thesis. Even her own father and mother know not of her nature, they thought that they have a perfectly normal girl.

The lack of communications is due to their differences in age. The role she plays in other people’s lives amount to zero. They know not that all the seemingly natural disasters, large or small, are all triggered by her. She never tells, she kept her heart strong.

28-12-2553

‘may not know if it is dreamed,

of a mere illusion that have been self-created.’

28-12-2553

Trying to escape through the gap between the molecules in the air which normally used to breath. Moves so swift yet careful. Goes through the in-between with grace and without witness. No long until layers of earth’s ozone is passed and onto the solar system. Escape from the unbearable density. Moves so swift as if it has a life’s worth of practice.

Move through the obstacles up and down, never missing or going unconscious. Jumps away, never looking back to the distances left behind. Coming into contact without hesitation whenever necessary.

The most important thing is to never give up or to have any thought of stopping. The gaps between the molecules of air consciously change their shapes as one breaths in and out. The only thing that you could bring to trust while traveling through these masses in time is the instinct that you are born with.

31-12-2553

We two alone no one wanted to know us. Everybody all wanted to be on their own, no body thought to be together. Only you and I that could not bear to be on our own any longer. So we moved together.

Every body looked with hatred, all cursed and swore at us. Both my and her family refused to call us family anymore. This could not be call love but a mere inability to seize to exist any longer on our own, unlike the rest. I never really understood how every body went through everything alone. I believed she felt the same way, we silently came to a mutual understandings of our misshaped surroundings. Thus we seized to exist by one another’s sides like a thing that could no longer exist as a single individual. Being along have become unbearable even over a period of over only a few days.

I never truly understand or thought I could be like those others around me; they are misshaped, their heads all weird, I wonder how they were. We never associated with those people. We could never communicate.

30-12-2553

I live in the smog, old black familiar fog. Float here and there, People despite, everywhere I go. Smoke alarm goes on. I live in the smoke, no on looks at me. Everyday all around, no completely without a purpose. Black smoke covers all over my body, expressionless.

My black body is swallowed by the smoke, one with the smoke. The night is still dark, shadows on my body dissolve with what is invisible.

I look through my smoke of black, everybody else is translucent. It is not too difficult to see through them. They walk all over, their body overlaps as they walk pass one another. They spread like germs. I am not certain if they all know what they are doing or where they are all heading. I am not certain if it is just me that could not comprehend the nothingness in the translucency of the crowd in front of me. Do not know what to do sometimes although I know full well that there is nothing to be done. I am in my old black familiar fog. Float here and there. Happy all alone. No hassle to meddle with. Black smoke disguises my sight, close my eyes and they disappears. Nobody forgets.

More than enough time looking at the translucent bodies. Beyond bored. Close my eyes and everything disappears. No long until they are reopened to take in everything again.

31-12-2553

01-01-2554

My body is rotting, dying more and more as moment passes.

Wound, dried wound, infection all over my skin. My body is hollowing – my hollow body. In reality it has rotted. No more core of life in it. Neglected and without care for such long time.

Eventually it falls slowly apart, hollowed out and eroded by current as weak as time’s. Quiet but steadily, the fluid the once runs in my flesh and veins have all evaporated with its genesis. All that was left behind are the soot in red, dried against the skin and no longer mobile. My joints are stiff as if they have been frozen under negative weathers. I left the dead shell of my body. Let my mind out.

I let it flow with its weightlessness, no longer bounded to the weight of its shell. The body now remains only as an addendum but not a necessary one. My empty mind floated without the medium in which it once used. The mind floated endlessly and without any direction.

It is difficult now to describe the relationship between these two things or to predict if one is any longer dependent on the other. It may be difficult thought not impossible.

02-01-2554

This place is empty at last. The large awkward field is freed of any memories to anchor itself in place. The bare field is without any tall trees of patches of grass to cover its earth. It is bare to the end of one’s sight. The air is dry and silent. Nothing moves or pushes the air to dance. Beginnings and ends all mixed into one large entity. The eye looks to the end of its sight, connecting the line which the ground ends to that of the sky. Unimaginably far away. Lastly they become the same flatness, no change in its physicality. Nothing notices. Nothing moves. Lastly we have to abandon this place. Leaving without ever returning. Can’t bare the present of ourselves in the large bare land. Our minds would not be able to stay one. We all step away, backward one step at a time. It took a long time before the bare land disappears. We look back to only find emptiness. Weariness. Even us that tend to be together cannot shake away the sense of loneliness. We may be trapped in this empty field without ends.

16-01-2554

She runs here and there, moves without anything obstructing her ways. She runs around the forest, the mountains, and the field.

Sometimes she runs around the beach, finding ways she could pass through. Not too hectic or crowded. She runs all the distances that her body could bare; here footsteps scattered free. Sometimes the sun shines in the rain forest, evaporated water droplets drop into the air. She runs through everything; never stopping nor getting tired. She breaths in and out, synchronizing with the beat of her own heart. He ants flee, the large tree roots. She hops over stone cliffs. She runs with all her might while her feet can still bare, neither in pain nor sorrow. She runs across rivers, and eventually across the seas. She finally enters the atmosphere and along she goes with the zeroness of gravity – until the moving of here feet ceases to create motion. She continues to run, although now she is going nowhere. She stomps over at the same place. She now runs places in her heart.

17-01-2554

Everybody still lead their lives in memories. Attached, and wholly enveloped.

Faces, characters,, and every details about them are still vivid and so alive in their memories. There is no need to worry. They are like the moving pictures in films which can be endlessly replayed. Every movements and feelings endlessly relay within the safely framed memories. Everybody and everything are always in delight, never dull out. At least that is remembered, as one could recall.

23-01-2554

This is it. Stop now. No need to stretch it, not anymore.

This is it. Stop now. No need to stand it, not anymore.

This is it. Stop now. No need to wait it out, not anymore.

This is it. Stop now. No need to blame, not anymore.

It happened. Nothing. Walk away, eventually.

Leave the city. Drag your legs. Out to the woods, eventually.

Force your eyes open in the water. Dry them in the sun. Stray.

Trees shadow. A carpet of rain. Know them, out to the woods.

Black like ash. Traces of the sea. Its scent.

Still. In motion. Small. Everyone would be asleep by now. Small. Family. Smiling lips.

Wide legs. Afternoon lunch. Lunch. Swell. Hit one another. Carpeted. The sun. Its shadow mirror.

Signaling smokes. Wild squirrel. Dark colored flowers.

Animals shoes. Frying pan. Fire. Calculations.

Let’s see. Change. Wander. End. Lavender. Grasshopper. Branches. Cracking.

Nagging. Bag. Shoes. Socks. Running shoes.

Sea waves. Sounds. Tiger. Glass. River. Worries.

Phone. Micro-phone. Leave this place. Sock. Sheep.

Caterpillar. Plank. Boiled water. Foot. Upside-down.

Lay down. We were not related from the beginning, have never been related.

You make me feel like a corpse.

You are like a vulture. Tearing my skin and bones.

I feel like a corpse whenever I am near you. Mr. Vulture. You have always made me feel like remains whenever I am near you.

Tearing my kin, my bones. Mr. Vulture the ways you carry your body, the pattern on your hands, and your very face - he sounds you make when you speak everything, all of it, makes me feel no different than a corpse, rotten and putrid; my skins hanging.

Mr. Vulture, you pull and drag, I cannot find words to describe my feelings – like a carcass – to die - lay still, with you pecking away my muscle and bones.

To become rotten and be of nothing – to bare no body to carry no shape. I do not clearly know how it has become this way. Maybe because I have let overshadow me too often, Mr. Vulture.

We walked the forest searching for food.

Walked in circle, we were confused. Sometimes we walked up, sometimes we walked down; left, right, forward, backward.

Looked to all direction, to the vast view. Wild flowers of all species. Blue small birds and all the animals. Sound of the stream finding its ways through the river rocks. Rattle against one another to make a sound. Food were hidden everywhere: under the big trees and under the ground.

24-042554

In the way, your bodies all over the place.

One after the other. One face after another.

Everywhere. Never tiring. Dissolving. Among with every other problems. No way. Search.

Search for some ways. Dizzy. All over the places. Tired. All around, all the places. Stuck. Disappearing.

All tired. Following.

Translucent slug. Melting. Thickening.

Teardrops. Goodbye. Near disappearing, heart. Hectic. Following.

Body. Hectic. Over.

pressed flowers

four-leaf clovers

05-2554

It is in no one’s place to calm you down.

You can stretch and kick with all your might, no one is going to stop you.

You can shout out you lungs, hit things with all your frustrations, nobody is stopping. You could cry with all your sorrow all you like. It is in no one’s place to clam you down or make you better. Empty now. It is no one’s place to take you away from here. Goodbye. I, too, have so many things I have to be taking care of. Look around, maybe the one thing you are looking for is nowhere further than the end of you peripheral sight. Goodbye. There is no use for sorrow. I believe you would understand. You are sinking and that will not help you. I believe you would understand. Your talent, you aspirations, and endurance should be what you always keep in mind. Goodbye. How would you make a living burying yourself sorrow like this.

30-07-2554

What we do is flow along to many different places. Places so far beyond our capacity to remember our ways back. We follow the wind – we go with the wind. The passing imagery keeps shifting and changing along with the darkness. We long for home. The loneness kept us strong. We let our bodies find their own ways to the destination - tired but are still capable of flowing. The puzzled person, motives, all have been engraved on our hearts.

We flow along many different places. Courage beyond words. We all think of the day we could forget everything. Forget to count days and night. Forget the places that we are from. Remembering only the courage we hold. No more destination. Farewell to the selves.

30-07-2554

Some may think you have gone insane or perhaps has lost you mind for just a moment without any explainable motives. Some may think you have lost all you senses that perceive the on-goings of the world around you. The way you response, both to fear and pity does not express any motives. This is perhaps why many a person believe that you have misunderstand you.

You have always say that you want to continue to live your life. You try to explain in every possible ways that this is not the way she believe that life is best lived.

Sometimes she goes mad all by herself – with frustrations.

She shakes her head and holds on to it with both of her hands like someone who is contemplating hard. But no

31-07-2554

Do not disappear. Breath deep.

16-08-2553

For eternity, the wind blew within this mountain and will not silent.

The stumping of animals in the mud during the rainy seasons will forever echoes in her head. Her actions show abnormalities so people closest to her would notice. The sound of the wind blowing against the thousands of trees will blur her visions. The sound of the cicada in the night will numb her along with the distances she awaits to be lessened.

For eternity, she will remember the fabric of the rain forest she dreams of. She yearns to return to forest which she has grown up in. The colorful macaw birds and the orangutans are clearly pictured in her hearts.

The deep rainforest is never without rain.

For eternity, she only yearns. She can only close her eyes and take her heart to visit those places when chances arise. The soaked ground gently touches the face of her two feet. The feeling is no different than that inside of a mother’s womb.

22-09-2553

all I know everything goes.

30-10-2553

one over four one over eight one over sixteen one over thirty-two

06-12-2553

loved him now without heart no more dimmed zero farewell

21-01-2555

father, it hurts: when someone does’t forgive you, even when you inherently know that it’s nobody’s fault when someone verbally destroy you & they couldn’t stop themselves. & it’s been so long We all ruin ourselves & we ruin others sometimes. Everybody & everything. Goes. What’ then the measure of living?

19-01-2555

A largely framed man walked to me, he tolled and told me there were some fine powdery substance stuck on my cheek.

I wiped it off with my left hand only to see now similar this powdery thing is to the sand at a beach I have once always gone as a child.

How strange that there would be such sand could have been blow across the ocean half the world away to where I then stood. There was no reason to tell that to the man. Thank you for letting me know. I told him with a dry smile before walking away. The snow outside dropped gracefully to cover everything in white. The largely framed man flawlessly disappeared into the snow and the endless landscape. I followed him with my eyes until he finally vanished. It may be a coincident that he noticed a speckle of strange dust against my cheek among all this snow. Perhaps he was an expert observer.

Who knew. I wondered about him sometimes that the snow started to fall like that day. The tall figure being eaten by the white of the snow and eventually disappeared. The snow enveloped everything and relieved the winter’s cold. The flake of snows were frail but was able to make everything seemed so gentle.

The cars did not move as much. People stomped everywhere. And isn’t it ironic that they all melt away into nothingness. Maybe if I had said more to the largely framed man I might found out that we had something in common.

Perhaps about the ocean or animal we like or the snow. The wind carried the flakes of snow everywhere. I touched my cheek with my left hand: no powdery sand from my childhood beach, I only felt my own skin in the part that is softer than others.

20-01-2555

we still have lives still breath still own a body however frail frailness of the heart that sometimes so heavy we still own starts still capable of looking at the moon light and the sun the air and the heat and coldness we still have our lives

22-01-2555

Walk backward, do a back flip twice.

Jog a little, but not too little.

Do not make fun of people. Smile widely. Say goodbyes.

Goodbye. Write it until the hand is used to it. Slippery pen in my hand. Against the skyline. Against the walls. call out the neighbor to help. Until exhausted. Hurt.

Out of breath, of air. Slipped in my throat. Sweat seeped out.

A 3 days marathon. Bottom-up of a glass. Cheered. Crowd of people.

Into my body, under my skin, straight to my brain. Two clear eyes blinked fast. My tongue could not taste a thing. Not important.

We are without anybody. Without anything. The stars we have collected still sparkle like they used to. I kept them next to my heart.

Nobody may take them. Took care of them. Easy now.

Close the eyes and let time walk and smile with all of us.

Everything will definitely change, for the better.

Because this may be the worst it has ever been.

29-01-2555

You swam into the fish’s big mouth and out to its ear. Swam up to the water surface and dived back to the ocean floor to collect a thousand needles. When you surfaced again there was no one left. Father, mother, sister. Everybody had gone home. Clear sky. The sun. Wet wind. You slowly stepped out of the warm sea, feet soaked in fine sand. The sun flattered your body dry. You walked into town – the big hectic town much like a labyrinth. Your bones are buried inside of your flesh, no way out. You are stuck in the city, no way out. The traffic overpowered the sound of the ocean – the water that you came from evaporated into air and left your memories. Father, mother, older sister might be waiting for you somewhere. Doing something they have always liked to do.

You looked everywhere – you bare feet stepping on the concrete floor, its blandness hurt you. “Please do not cry”, sounded the public declaration broadcasting everywhere in the city. “Nobody blamed you, nobody wants to take you away from anything. Go forward to the ways that you can find. You still breath, even now that your lungs are no longer filled with sea water.”

01-02-2555

WE ARE NOWHERE NEAR THE END.

& you haven’t really lost any thing if you haven’t lost your life .

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