A person died a few days ago. A conductor. I hardly knew him. I do wish I did.

. . . .

A few days after my dad died, a few years ago back in high school, I returned to school. A few friends uttered their condolences. In response I told them, "Thanks, but its okay. I know your words are just formalities. Thanks anyway." I guess I said that because I thought experiences as personal as these are always very personal. Noone really knows what a loss means to a person.

And in this short time that I've set aside this morning, as I would try to say something, I can't really think of anything.

. . . .

Except maybe just to say that for what its worth, Pak Prab, you have changed a lot of lives, sir. You have put faith in the talents of persons whose talents have been doubted. And you have pushed persons into creating art; persons who doubt they could create art. And with faith you have lead persons to push art into greatness. And I thank you.

Posted at 8:29:57 am by ferdikom98


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I don't write intellectually. I write expressively. I don't claim to be accurate, fair or thorough. I don't wanna get stuck on certain topics. Though I sometimes do. But not that often. I'd like to expand. I wanna write more poems. But I'll only upload them if they're good. I only rant about my life's hardships if it will rescue just a little bit of my sanity. I'm saner than I make myself out to be, though.

If I am an OS kernel, and I just had a kernel dump, I'd imagine that the text in this blog is what it would more or less look like.

There. Do you get it?


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