Second Autumn in Delft

Not the first. But sometimes, I think, I'd never learnt from my first experience. I always forget that autumn is the best enemies for my heart. The changing from green leaves to yellow and after sometimes becoming red is certainly the changing of the colour of my heart. Life is not green anymore, not also yellow, not red, but blue.

Stephen covey will hate me for this. He will say that I am sucks. He will say that I am only the phatetic looser who is just too reactive not proactive. He will probably say that I am a moron who never learn from experience though I read his 7-habit-book three times in the different time. And I met him once, face to face, on a press conference years ago.

I know myself very well. The second autumn here, in the middle of nowhere, where I think I might find peace of mind, the quay of the journey, the green green grass of home, but still, there is something missing inside. I miss the moment, some moments, which I think the best moment of my life. The warmth, the tenderness, and the peacefulness.

The second autumn in here, in the middle of nowhere. The same tree tells me stories of a farawell to their beloved sunshine. A farawell of not so long-a 4-5 months long- but tough. A days full of grey sky and whispering wind with uncertainty rain in the morning and the night that will be their best friend in autumn.

A mysery-lady marmalade in the lonely cubical room in the cubical building who came in the early autumn starts to dance at the very moment the wishpering wind blows into the cubic with its ghostly sound. And without I'm noticing, I start to dance with the Lady with the dance of exiling and alienating.

Some autumns are somewhat boring, somewhat beautiful, somewhat awful, somewhat cruel, somewhat terrible and somewhat dangerous. But one lonely grasshopper has to find his own shelter to protect him from the whispering wind. Not so long after that, the sun might still shine, and the green green days will return. And happiness will pick him up again...

Night in Delft, on the dance floor of mysery-and a deep missing of my two beloved creatures