What is story? What is a good story? Can we create stories that enlighten one's life?
Where do all beautiful stories begin? There is one I picked up in random.
My first impression of the below drawing is rather complex. Let me describe it. The soft and fragile qualities of the drawing encourage me to getting closer to it, although at the first sight, it seems rather distance, and yet this experiences is like reading private daily of my friend. The poor doggy and the splinted milk at the foreground remind me of the forbidden memories where miracle begins.
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If the picture explains an experience of our growth up, to some extent, we all share a similar story: The moment in which life is so fragile and woundable that we afraid to get hurt; closed our body so tightly with our eyes and ears shouted, and even unseen or ignore a generous offer or welcome by others.
However, if we can look beyond, focus on other moments or events of our life, or even forgetting the idea of “ourselves”, we would perhaps feeling more fulfill, and knowing how to appreciate oursurrounding in which the birds are singing beautifully at the top of the branches. What a lovely and touching picture. If life is a Journey. Oh yes, what is my journey then?
I am getting extremely tired over two year's period, live likes a robot, lost of focus. To leave a comfort zone is not easy; however, to live without soul is torture. Last summer, I saw a poster at Vienna that recalls a sweet dream of mine.
How soft and yet moldable opportunities for a children, dare to be different, and dare to be free.
Having seen “Snow Show” in December, I retrieve my sense of difference. Perhaps, that night, most of the audiences were eager to touch the spider web, to throw the enormous balloons and to feel the chills of the paper tornado. I, motionless, thought about my life, in contrast to the performance of the crown and the loneliness baggers.
What is a crown for? To please others, even he is no willing. To tryout many and creative methods to fulfill the person who give him a penny? Or just to catch a second of our attentions? What does my profession provided me? Am I willing the wear the makeup and pertaining I am something else?
One of the most reflective scenes from the drama was very simple. One bagger were following the other bagger, holding a stick, chasing the balloon in the mist of moon light. I wonder, were there 7 baggers or just one bagger on the stage? Why they are wearing the same clothing, same makeup, and same body movement? All of a sudden, I realizes I am just one of the bagger/ crown (vs. crowned), repeating and following the so-call path, value and direction of the closed framed society. Is it a tragedy? I will say: no! At least, I know I am drowning, and need help.
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