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16,28,44

i was in my late 16, when i sat on the tip of gold coast beach. it was late. i failed to count the twinkling stars which covered the dark inked sky. i let the wind blew my dyed hair. i rested my coloured flip-flop on the side of my left tiny foot. i can [...]

Asides

  • blogging is like a mirror. a way to looking at my self. what i have in mind. some missing words that are never come out from my mouth and yet linger and tangle in my mind. thus i feel a need to burst it out. again, simpy to remind my self that i am indeed a paradox. forget about perfect phrase, this is not a stage to show off. this is not literature. this is scribble words. and am not a writer nor editor. this is imperfect. simply like the path that i walk on. fragile and breakable. my dad once told me to be careful of what i am saying. words may fail. it's true. people perceive things differently in regards to their field of experience and frame of knowledge. whatever. it's true that words are sometime harmful. words can be twisted. just like criminal minds. words are vehicle. words are passage. it's transport us. we set our on boundary through words. the reality we reflect is fenced by the words we acquired. but then again, this is life. imperfect, fragile and breakable.  #
  • "We have to understand that the world can only be grasped by action, not by contemplation. The hand is more important than the eye... The hand is the cutting edge of the mind." - Jacob Bronowski #

Welcome to THE JENDELA

Opinions. Passions. Crumble of Life…or Else.

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