Saturday, September 26, 2015


do you remember that one conversation we had one sunday afternoon?

i was at the atmosphere when you woke up and i walked out into the empty corridor and i called you and we talked, like we often do when one of us awakes. 

you had been busy the night before, i think, going on site or doing paperwork or something, i don't remember now. you were tired or stressed or discouraged from doing work you do not enjoy, or all three. i can hear it in your voice, in the slow, sweet way you were speaking, and it always kills me. 

and we talked about that, about work. we talked about passion because isn't that what we all want? to love what we do? and about money because it is inevitable, unavoidable. and about family - what your mother wants, what your mother wishes - because we are, at our very core, Chinese and sometimes, most times, our parents' happiness is ours. 

i remember telling you - and this i remember very clearly - that happiness can be found anywhere and everywhere, even in the most mundane of jobs, even in the most monotonous of days. happiness is there, it is everywhere, if only you knew how to feel it.

and i remember you saying - and this too, i remember very, very clearly - that's you. that's me. me, i was your happiness in the midst of the mundane and the monotony. it killed me, did you know that? it broke my heart.

i laughed. but inside, i was crying. you were the good thing in my days too. maybe we have lost it all. we took a gamble before it was our turn, before it was our time and we lost it all.

but that was then, and this is now. 

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