Dustyhawk :: Broken Mirror

Can you hear this voice of mine,
Can you hear it now?
No matter what happens,
don’t go on with this pain….

In a moment when the time passes by
I feel like I began to see nothing at all
The color in this city is changing and in the midst of it
Somehow I feel as if we’re together

Something is binding our hearts together
I always care for you
There’s a strong magnet that pulls me to you
And everytime I feel it, I just smile helplessly

One by one Lights from the windows light up

If you’re here I shall return to this place anytime
Yes, I’m looking for you
This pure untainted love is calling to us
I can hear the calling…

And so on Monday is the day of the week between Sunday and Tuesday. It gets its name from the Moon, which in turn gets its name from Mani (Old English Mona), the Germanic Moon god. A day where Serge puts on black slacks, a shirt and maybe a tie as he walks down the aisle. The aisle of hope and fears with the hair combed backwards in slick James Dean pseudo-fashion. If a coat is available he will wear that as well and put on a smile as he moves towards the altar.

While having a conversation with Hexlord regarding photography duties at Comic Fiesta, the following conversation came.

…at the early morning of around 5am. Where he is not on any porcelain throne nor is he at the office. He is at home, on the bed and is typing this entry under the sheets. Position-wise this is very dangerous as he is now suffering from stupid-elbow syndrome that leads on to carpal-tunnel syndrome. You might asked, why is he awake now ?

Besides the usual, he got up and he had nothing else to do, he just wanted to write something. A post that could be considered all awe inspiring. Unfortunately, that is just a figment of his imagination as he checks his downloads. Going to the bank will be done in about 2 hours, numbnuts still have not done what Serge has asked them to do.

And the world still revolves around the Sun and nothing has changed at this crossroads of time. How a simple letter changes the life of one named Serge and how little it does to change the big picture. 60 days is what the contract has stated, 60 days to be here and on the 61st day which will fall somewhere around the 15th of December; Serge will leave this place.

The letter written. Signed, sealed and delivered in both electronic and in manual format. Three months here and only a bit of experienced. Three years in the Call Center line, the pay is obviously good and if searching for that much needed working experience then yes this is good. Yet being scheduled to work, to miss out on many events and to miss out on all public holidays has taken it’s toll.

Many times Serge has kept hearing other people who is older than Serge tell him to listen to his elders because they are wise and what not and in most cases this is true. But there are times in this short life that we have, that the young generation has their golden moments and wisdom that far surpasses their current age. Of which we who we call ourselves adults need to acknowledge.

While going through some Livejournal entries, Serge was captured by the writings of Esther. Normal clockwork will dictate that Esther’s writing style in previous entries was that of a teenage girl with hormones raging and with a narcissistic I I I ME ME ME kind of entry. However, this entry is fresh and shows how much this person has matured in the past year that Serge has known this person through the digital medium.

It’s just that day that happens every 365 unless someone jumped in every four, so we count it at 366. Always and always, it will always be the same just like that time and that time and that time. No matter how much we would like to change it, the change is only minimal and only the one that changes can feel it. Throwing water in to the ocean doesn’t increase the amount of water in it, when the water that is thrown in; is the water that came from the ocean.