The book of laughter and forgetting

Finally got my hands on a Milan Kundera book. I wish i read him when i was seventeen, and doing my i-search. Maybe then i wouldn't have to search so hard this time. Only you draw me out when i'm trying so hard to hide behind half smiles, and the river of life.

Remember the butterfly, and our soul? How our lives are like a butterfly, first ugly, eventually beautiful. We are rewarded with freedom in flight, and we flitter, so delicate, so fragile, even as we fly bits of our wings fall apart. But we love the flight, the freedom, even if it would eventually kill us we would still cherish it, breathe it deeply into our being, and letting it fill us up.

I remember the night, curled up in bed with you i told you how i saw life. I knew i would die for this but i didnt care. Whoever said it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, was probably a suicical maniac. Who viewed his life expectancy through the eyes of a Singaporean lemming. I saw the present that night, and i completely forgot i could be hurt, though the scars were still fresh on my heart.

14 days of freedom and flight i knew it could last forever, i was so sure. And indeed the 30 days spent in your warm loving arms is something i will not easily forget. And in a sense it will last forever.