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Anything can be beautiful if the camera is good enough.


Time flies

Groucho Marx:

Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana.


bananas (Photo credit: Fernando Stankuns)

Haruki Murakami’s new release: Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki

Book of words

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
In case if you have not heard, Haruki Murakami is out with his new book ‘Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage.’ This is Murakami’s first long novel in the past three years since last releasing his widely acclaimed book ‘1Q84,’ which I absolutely adore as have reviewed in previous entries.

As a self-professed Murakami fan who went on my little ‘Murakami literary pilgrimage’ when I went to Tokyo (Click here for pictures), this is certainly one of the most exciting literary news I have heard in awhile.

And I know I am not in this alone. There was much hype surrounding the book prior to its release on April 12, with Asahi Shimbun reporting that a major Japanese publishing house has prepared 500 000 copies “in anticipation of high demand for Haruki Murakami’s latest novel, breaking the record of any first printing by the publisher.”


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“Turn this whiskey into tears
Help unravel all the years I wasted
Freedom tasted
That never fed my soul

Turn this shadow into light
Make this twisted spirit right somehow
Take this heart and let it feel
Turn this whiskey into tears”


Eyes on the night

Eyes on the night (Photo credit: matley0)

We walked along the empty beach,
Pelicans and bright winter sun.
I look up into the sky,
There is no crack, but I can hear the drum.
Heart’s beating, I glanced at you,
your eyes bright and deep,
after all the years
that had gone through.
I am the sum of a thousand pieces,
some of them I left with you.
The wave marks the sand, until another comes again,
but the sand remembers one particular mark,
savor it now and then.

Sunset and you

Your voice so close to me,
Soft and low.
If you are hurting,
Can you let me know.
I dare not look at your eyes,
how deep and how they glow,
the years have flown by,
you sound tired,
I want to give you a hug,
but I cannot do so.
How many times have I thought of this moment,
and words that would flow.
But now I can only look away,
talking about mutual friends,
since a long time ago.
English: Sunset at Kalpeni.

English: Sunset at Kalpeni. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Happiness is waking up on a new day, your money is not devalued overnight,

the raspberry pecan roll is still eighty-eight cents a piece,
you can still make your mortgage payment,
for a place you call home,
where you have the arms of loved ones to come back to.

Happiness is after a full day of research,
you feel hungry,
and foolish,
just as Mr. Jobs advised.

There is a place
where writers do not send their works abroad to seek publishing;
where the sight of police does not make you tremble;

where the rich do not have to worry about kidnapping;
the poor wont have their last bread taken away.

Happiness is when days go by as usual.
The boys and girls glued to their phones as usual,
the old folks talk about dentures as usual.
the Chinese restaurant is still called “Thailand Cafe”,
the ambulances rushing down the traffic as usual.

When the night comes down,
The street lamps light up.

If you are that kid who is thinking about quitting high school,
or the woman who is tired of your spouse;
if you are mad at the world,
or pained by the discomforts of going to the bathroom that comes with aging,
there is someone holding your hand,
listening to you.

Happiness is knowing the person you said “goodbye” to in the morning,
will come back in the evening,


Sock Prayer Flags.

Sock Prayer Flags. (Photo credit: knitting iris)

and smelly.
Socks kicked under the chair,
as usual.