Translation

《我們在炎熱與抑鬱的夏天，無法停止抽煙》

Finally got my hands on the My Little Airport CD. For some strange reason, the CD cover reminded me of this photo.

You teach me French, but I cannot speak well.
You said 'je pense a toi', but I said 'Japan 實瓜'.

现代

现代人的爱情

如果你爱着我而我也爱着你
结果还是有段跨不过去的距离
只是离开还依然美丽
如果说我爱着你
而你却比较爱自己
我想那就不是我的问题
那不过是现代人的爱情

春

I miss the places we haven't been to

Just outside of Lyon is the sleepy little village of Chasselay, home to a friend of mine. His house is on a little knoll overlooking the surrounding landscape which is a patchwork of orchards and farms. After a day of taking in the city sights of Lyon, we would head home for a nice dinner which was always preceded by a walk through the orchards. The cherry blossoms were in bloom then and their sweet scent filled the air. I still can recall a hint of that scent, lingering in my memory, so fleeting and yet so real. The paths in the cherry orchard led to the woods. Each day, we would take turns choosing which path to walk and once we've picked a path, we would keep walking until we reached the end of the woods where there was a little stream. By the stream we would sit and chat, until the sun starts to set.

We are defined by the choices we make. The fact that we choose one path over another or the fact that we choose to stick to a path that we are already on speaks volumes. Our inaction is as loud as our actions. We comfort ourselves by saying that the choices we have made are really forced upon us, by circumstances or bad timing or by an inexplicable surge of emotions. We shrug off the nagging feeling that lingers after by saying that "I can't do anything about it". Often, we confuse "can't" with "won't".

This reasoning that we use to make our decisions is what we loosely term as ethics or morals, the bedrock on which we decide what is right or wrong. Kant said that a moral action is one performed out of a sense of duty rather than out of inclination or feeling or the possibility of some gain for the person performing it. But for Kant's definition to hold true, there must be a an underlying maxim that gives rise to a sense of duty and that this maxim has to be a universal maxim. A Theist would believe that such universal maxims are mandated by the Creator, adding a new dimension to the consequences of not heeding such maxims.

Kantian logic in this sense holds true for major acts such as murder, rape or genocide. Generally, everyone thinks that these acts are morally repulsive. But when it comes to matters closer to our personal sphere the line blurs. Matters of the heart are a classic example of how difficult it can be to make a distinction between what is right or wrong. This problem is further compounded by the fact that we often reduce the "universality" of any moral maxim to just the two persons in a relationship (sometimes three persons), making it a subjective universal maxim. In short, a contradiction.

Perhaps it is upon realisation that we have reasoned the universal maxim into a contradiction that the lines in our personal sphere start to un-blur. A corollary of our decision making process is that we have to live with the consequences of our actions. Being human, we would always want the best outcome. We want our piece of sky and when it is promised to us we are unwilling to pay the price for it. Everything comes at a price and everything has a value. Unfortunately, we only know the value of something by its absence.

There is no shame in faltering or attempting to distort the universality of a maxim. Children do it all the time and I suspect that this ability is hardwired into our human nature. Nevertheless, children eventually grow up and they learn the right from the wrong, albeit in their own time. But this is when they blossom, this is when it is Spring; a new beginning.

ParkBench

不要再想起，不快乐的事情...

There is a sense of duality in life that we take for granted. Living and Dying, Happiness and Sorrow, Truth and Falsehood. To say that I should forget about what makes me sad would be to also forget the happiness that I have derived from that thing, person or event. Not that forgetting either is easily done. I like green. I've always believed that green is the Maker's favourite colour. I am a hoarder of memories. I have adopted parkbenches from all over the world and I know one day I will find one that is truly mine. I think I have indeed lost the privilege of behaving like a small boy. It is time to grow up. Time really passes when you're not looking.

Mobile

Abstract -
lines and pure colour,
in a performing role.

Baker

Simplicity, simple staple. Payment in kind.

I love the smell of freshly baked bread and the way it crackles and crumbs when you break off a chunk to stuff in your mouth. In fact, it was the smell of freshly baked bread that lead me to this little bakery in Shiraz. In Iran, there is always a long queue at the baker's just before meal time because bread is an essential part of the Iranian diet, especially the flat bread. I joined the queue for my share of bread but was waved ahead by every person in the queue until I reached the head, another instance of wonderful Iranian hospitality. The baker refused to accept payment for the bread and I resorted to taking his photo as payment in kind although knowing full well that I will never be able to repay that kind-ness.

Abandoned

Abandoned but still in existence?

What is the value of a moment? Eternity? Many human activities gain their meaning from the fact that they are unrepeatable. We make choices, decisions that shape the people we become. Our joy in the immediate experience of the pattern of light and shade in a forest partly comes from the fact that it is a transient effect that we may never see again. Our mortality makes us value the present because we may not have a future. The pattern of our choices and its consequences give us our personal history. Yet if we are to live forever, this source of meaning won't be there for us. There will always be time to do everything. It is the fear of death and its finality that gives our lives much of the meaning that they have.

holier-than-thou, 2 years from now

Split

For men and women are not only themselves; they are also the region in which they were born, the city apartment or the farm in which they learnt to walk, the games they played as children, the old wives' tales they overhead, the food they ate, the schools they attended, the sports they followed, the poets they read and the God they believed in. It is all these things that have made them what they are, and these are the things you can't come to know by hearsay, you can only know them if you have lived them. You can only know them if you are them.
~ Somerset Maugham, The Razor's Edge

红豆

送您

我终于明白为什么有些人，
会用笑脸来表达心意。
因为没话说， 什么也不必说。
那么简单的事， 我也不懂 :)

Streetcorner

Mullah, Mulling

This week's issue of the Economist ran a pretty unbiased article on the conflict in Gaza. It is easy to see the fighting in Gaza as a clash of religions or a clash of civilizations but to do so would be to miss the real root of the problem. Yes, there is the shadow puppet play between Iran and America, causing a divide between the neighboring Arab states along those lines. But at the heart of the conflict is a fight over land, a place which two people want to call home.

And now, the world watches as a well armed conventional army takes on a militia hiding amongst the populace. There is only one assured outcome of such a confrontation, a high civilian death toll. Palestinians put the death toll of this two weeks old conflict at over 700 with at least 2,500 wounded. It has been reported that as many as 40% of the dead are women and children and that a large majority have been non-combatants. Not so tragic when reduced to statistics and numbers? Sometimes I wonder what it is like to live in fear, that the next explosion could be the last you hear, or the last your children hear.

"Despair quivered in Muhammad al Majdalawi's voice as he described the Jabaliya refugee camp in the northern Gaza strip, four days after Israeli troops had entered the territory. 'The soldiers are 500 meters from my house,' he said. 'Three children in my neighbourhood were killed alst night. the walls in my house are shaking. Every minute there are explosions, every minute there are martyrs. We can't sleep, we can't move, we have almost no food, no electricity and its very cold'. He spoke hurriedly, afraid that his mobile phone would run out of power"
~ Briefing, The Struggle for Gaza. The Economist January 10th 2009.

Relive

珍藏品

Only $8 to relive the past.
But how long can this last?

Remember

73685

Pieces of the past.
Much of the time, I rely on memory.
A powerful tool, that distorts and enlightens.

Astra

Aarhus/Home

Its a starry night tonight,
I search for my guiding light.

Circus

Entertained and Enthralled

On the last day with my guide Mohsen, he invited me to watch an Iranian circus troop that was in town. Ever mindful of the tricky Iranian custom of ta'arof, I politely declined twice and on the third time when he insisted I hurriedly agreed. I was surprised that he would invite me as it was supposed to be a family outing for him. Being the only foreigner at the circus, I attracted a fair bit of attention, perhaps more so than one or two of the circus clowns. The whole circus was a very simple affair without any fancy lighting or highly dangerous acts. It was just pure, back to basics, old school entertainment, quite the experience. Apart from introducing me to his family, driving me to and from my hotel to the circus, he also paid for my circus ticket and bought me a really good pizza dinner after the circus. I've always felt that kindness among strangers is a magic that cannot be commanded. I don't mean courtesy or good service, mere politeness. But something that touches you form someone who did not have to, was not expected to.

More photos here

Damaged

Scratched, shaken, exposed - framed.
I am drawn to the light, like a moth to the flame.

Old

Kharanaq, past and present.

Kharanaq is a virtually deserted and crumbling mud-bring village in a valley about 70km north of Yazd. It is believed to be more than 1000 years old and the site has been occupied in some form for more than 4000 years. For some strange reason, I like old places. Sometimes, the earth feels so young in Singapore. I like old places because of my fondness for the past. The past anchors. The past also shapes the present. But the future should be shaped by aspirations.

More photos here

Yazd

我想要的那片天空， 你是不是能够给我？

The one thing I like about traveling without a fixed plan is that you stumble upon many pleasant surprises along the way. The downside of this is that you sometimes have to manage the frustration of not being able to see all that you wanted to. I guess one can never have the best of both worlds. Anyway, sooner or later you learn to deal with the frustration, making do with what you have. We all make do. When I arrived in Yazd, the sky was cloudy with gloom and I thought the rains had followed me from Shiraz. When I camped in the desert, I thought I would not see any stars. But I still hoped. That night, a strong wind blew, the clouds cleared and I saw stars beyond my wildest imagination.

Photos from Yazd here

Assume

"Why do you think you are missing something you never had?"

"What is a secret wish?"
"It is what you want but cannot ask," said Amah.
"Why can't I ask?"
This is because... because if you ask it... it is no longer a wish but a selfish desire," said Amah. "Haven't I taught you - that it is wrong to think of your own needs..."
~Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club

温柔

Down by the river

I sat by the river watching and waiting. So this is where all the people who want to be alone come. I noticed that the grass is set in cement sections, elevated so no one can walk on it. Out of bounds. The Wind whispered softly in my ear, "name me a song and I'll sing it for you". I recalled a song. A song of sacrifice, freedom, blue skies, sunshine and warmth. Gently, I mouthed my reply but my words were caught in her vortex, like fallen leaves in those little cyclones you sometimes see, whirled round and round, jumbled, going nowhere. Not hearing a song, the Wind assumed I had none and left, leaving my words hanging, in the air.

Crossroad

Bearing our cross, on a two way street.

At night, those who sleep comfortably in their beds, in their houses, are blind to those of us who do not. This is why some fear the darkness and others welcome it.