The secrets to life are those lies that lurk beneath the truth of human condition - the condition of the heart, the greatest victory but also human's most deadliest weakness. The affairs of the heart are the single path to our downfall as surviving species, and eventually reduce us to mere dust and little insignificant particles in the morning air after a heavy rain, I am convinced. I am part of this whole big picture of lies. More than 30 years of existence now, can I see myself as refined as one should be? A woman of substance or merely a living physique that the soul has decided to walk away?
Has my soul betrayed my heart of pure naivety?
Has my soul betrayed my heart of pure naivety?
Conflicts in myself has always been my biggest concern - living a life with mixed hopes, dreams and desires. Is there a definite way to make them return to me? Can I call them back one by one? Faint whispers evaporate into petals of withered tulips, the scent of fallen hopes is too intoxicating yet heartbreaking. My writing has never been this affected until I stumbled upon Wei Hui's style of expressing herself and her own sexuality. She revived my passion for words, my faith in the belief that words could heal the faintest heart ... or could it? I was there once - those lights, those nights scribbling under that familiar night light, at my table, in the darkest room of the loneliest heart. I was completely broken, tormented. My heart cried tears of crystal clear blood, but my spirit soared higher than my physique could carry me.
I believe that blissfulness was just .... there ... captured on paper and ink.
I have never felt so close to my existence before. Sorrow and sadness are proofs of being sane and totally alive. Complacency could only bear boredom ...
Written on a Sunday morning, 23rd April, 2006 at 1:42am
More visuals via World Country Magazine Blog. Shu Qi by Chen Man for Harper's Bazaar August 2015.
