What's happening in Flic-En-Flac?

What's happening in Flic-En-Flac? Well, everybody seems busy with their lives - the new year came and went away, and all of us seem to have resumed our everyday routine.

The elite of the rhum-gulping club all seem to be alive and drinking. However, they are frowning upon the newcomers who came to make a few bucks with the forgotten trolleys (each one's worth 10 bucks) - the proof, Roy, the homeless wine/rhum veteran is currently walking around with a few injuries on his face.

Nothing's new with me - I'm still living in an impossible desert while crawling towards what looks like a mirage. My good mate, however, seems to be swimming in the lake of happiness. Makes me wonder...

My Confession

I like hugging you. I like being close to you, and watching you. I love everything about you, especially your hair, and how it gets all weird in the morning, when I drop by your house to have tea with you. The best thing that I like is hugging you. You're so smallish, so cute - I wish I could just keep hugging you.

I can't walk by your road without staring at your gate. I can't stop my heart from jumping when I see somebody far away who looks a little bit like you - and I just can't explain what happens when I hear your voice from afar. Everytime I come closer to you, and kiss you on your cheeks, I just can't help wishing I were kissing your lips. I wish I could hold your hand, and go on a walk on the beach with you.

My dear, I wish you were mine. I don't know what's stopping me from telling you how much I care for you, and how much I adore you. Would it be my shaking knees, or my blank mind? I feel something when we're talking on the phone, and keep thinking about our short conversations on the phone. I treasure each and every text message you sent me, and I feel blessed when you call me.

I love it when you yawn, and I adore seeing you dance. Everything about you makes me wonder... and I wish we were together, right now, at this very moment. Even if we die poor, I will still feel that I've been the richest man in the whole world.

There's no doubt about that. I love you.

Wow

I don't recall how the weather looked like, nor could I detect any delicate smells around me. It was neither hot nor cold, and nothing in this particular moment would've predicted what would happen. It was a normal day, the birds and the people around all looked normal.

Something fell from the sky, and I caught it. I was positively certain that I was still immersed in reality. My eyes, which had been closed halfway in response to the usual boredom of the world, suddenly opened up and sparkled with glee. I looked up at the sky, to confirm that I wasn't dreaming, and checked my outstretched arms. Yes, it was real.

"What's your name?" I asked

She smiled, but didn't reply.

Writing

When I write, my mind is closed to all inputs from the real world. I write to fill in the void inside of me, to compensate for the loneliness. Those words living here are the bits and pieces of my mind and my sentences mirror my heart.

I write hoping to be read. I know that those fragments of memories made up of words and punctuations might forever live inside of you, and that is why sentences are eternally forming inside of my mind, to finally be born through a melodious drumming of my keyboard. Yes, writing is selfish. The writer is both the father and the mother, who hopes for the world to see his or her children.

Hope...?

I hate unsolved mysteries. But I'm always delighted when I'm in the process of solving one.

Maybe the mystery of this year would be Hope. Hope is an individual with unknown motives; she visits my blog from time to time and drops me comments. We talked on chat and sent emails to each other, but for a few months now, the communication has been pretty much one way.

During blank moments, I keep thinking of methods I could use to track her down. I know I could compare the time and date of comments left with visiting IP's on my websites - but what can I really do with that? Call the local telecom and ask them for the phone number of that person? I don't even have a valid legal reason to want to track her down anyways.

And then there are the philosophical issues. What good is there to track someone who wants to remain anonymous?

*sigh*

P.S.
Yes... I made the blue sunflower drawing.