Letter 425: The Opposite of Fate
OPEN
I once thought I had chosen the right door. This was because I saw a stream of light illuminating the cobbled alley to which I thought was my route of exit. Not once was I even remotely aware that at the far dark corner which would greet me at the end of the alley stood a brick wall. So confident was I of this egress that I strode along the alley not bothering to carry a torch, only to run into the wall and repeatedly smash my nose against it because I was so convinced that somewhere on that brick wall where light doesn't reflect off, there has got to be another door that would lead to my absolution. Alas! I was in the dark, and it was only when I felt the warm, sticky blood trickling down my nose did I finally accept the fact that I might have chosen the wrong opening.
CLOSED
There are no doors here, only the soft, gentle breeze that brings a mild foreshadowing that the winds are changing. You are at the same place. The river still flows. Yet you feel different. You see things from a different perspective now. You used to think that the river exudes a lucid stillness; now, you see the tormented undercurrents swirling below the surface. Somewhere beyond the shore, strains of Bob Dylan bobs across the river and finds its way to your ears. He is singing about some changing times. How eerily prophetic. You shudder, not knowing whether it's the cool touch of the zephyr, or the fact that you're about to let go all that you ever thought was perfect. The wind continues to tug at your hair, but it is shorter now, and it is refusing to be tousled.
I once thought I had chosen the right door. This was because I saw a stream of light illuminating the cobbled alley to which I thought was my route of exit. Not once was I even remotely aware that at the far dark corner which would greet me at the end of the alley stood a brick wall. So confident was I of this egress that I strode along the alley not bothering to carry a torch, only to run into the wall and repeatedly smash my nose against it because I was so convinced that somewhere on that brick wall where light doesn't reflect off, there has got to be another door that would lead to my absolution. Alas! I was in the dark, and it was only when I felt the warm, sticky blood trickling down my nose did I finally accept the fact that I might have chosen the wrong opening.
Singapore, June 2008.
CLOSED
There are no doors here, only the soft, gentle breeze that brings a mild foreshadowing that the winds are changing. You are at the same place. The river still flows. Yet you feel different. You see things from a different perspective now. You used to think that the river exudes a lucid stillness; now, you see the tormented undercurrents swirling below the surface. Somewhere beyond the shore, strains of Bob Dylan bobs across the river and finds its way to your ears. He is singing about some changing times. How eerily prophetic. You shudder, not knowing whether it's the cool touch of the zephyr, or the fact that you're about to let go all that you ever thought was perfect. The wind continues to tug at your hair, but it is shorter now, and it is refusing to be tousled.
Singapore, June 2009.
Technorati Tags: life, musings, personal, emo, thoughts, metaphors
8 Durian(s) Thrown at Jun:
When one door closes another door opens, and you will never know which is the right.:)
hc: wat if the doors keep slamming at ur face?
Seek, and you will find the ingress. Knock, and it will be opened to you.
koh: wat if i knock but no one's thr?
Nowadays...the doors automatically slides open! :o)
if no one's there then it's even easier! break down the door!!! :D
nah, give u a huge hammer and a drill. now u have no more excuses to say 'what if i dont have the right equipments to break down the door'! ;)
wmw: skali no electricity how?
nickie: i think i'd prefer u to hammer and drill my head -_-
Such a beautiful info. It’s so nice site. We love to see more on this site. Keep on updating… MonkAreRee Bali ***
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