my first run

10 years have passed since cheju marathon

of songs

dear daisy,
songs are great metaphors of human's expression and throughgoing nonsense.

time of your life by greenday.

and how broken clock is a comfort to me, when time stand still and frozen everything. 

from where you are.

the song: lifehouse, from where you are.

this is perhaps the best summer since 2006

of trouble and chemical reaction

even the best fall down sometimes,
even the stars refuse to shine

listening to: snow patrol, hundred million suns - if there's a rocket tie me to it



sometimes i wonder, why people like to put their lives so much in trouble?

my i love you daisy

i  love you darling daisy

born on the pi day, may the love goes on forever. until the numbers end. 

walkmen's heaven

\ for the future that never happen

of travel

my life is a story of impenetrable obscurity and against odds. even science is not the total answer that leaves me with the belief that miracles, no matter how inexplicable or unbelievable, are real and can occur without any logical explanation. you may call me a dreamer or fool or any other thing, i traveled through so many lives and, into uncharted terrains, slipped underneath skins and emotions of people, whom i read through fictions and non-fictional characters. in many ways, i am a wanderer, lost in charms of characters in a timeless frame.

i began my story from the great adventures of huckleberry finn, tom sawyer and jim, of the time during entrenched racial aggression against the blacks. i was fourteen when i first read the books by mark twain,  and was at the same age with huck finn. 

i was a librarian during my junior high and spent most of the time during recess at the school library reading books. i guess, if i were a librarian during my high school days, i would have married the guy who shared his story of the curious case of benjamin button today. that's the mystery of life, that circumstances often lead us to other paths and perhaps some day will come across each other again. fifteen years passed, yet we are still strangers over cups of coffee.

perhaps it was the characters that i read during my school days, shaped me into the person i am today. i remember a letter from a senior who was frustrated with my misdemeanor and running antics from school, quoting excerpts from catcher in the rye and great expectations as if i was holden or pip. it was one of the most intelligent love letters i ever received. but i never budge because guys with a guitar and greenday songs are evergreen. just listen to the time of your life. twenty years down the road, it is refreshing and sometimes bring tears to your eyes.

i came across the story of the adventure of marco polo this morning on aljazeera. like great travelers in the past, he was really young, of the age between 17-19. if he lives today, he would be one of my students or like any ordinary guys you've seen around. it was the moment that i realise, that i too, like marco polo. and i should start writing again.