My Name Is Khan- Music Review

Shahrukh. Kajol. Karan Johar. These three names are enough to raise humongous expectations of a film. Four years after failing to juggle commercialism and radicalism without dropping balls and making a near mess out of it, Karan Johar is returning to the megaphone with My Name is Khan. Everything about this film typifies with Karan’s earlier films- Shahrukh and Kajol, the classic KKHH and KKKG pair teaming up again under his direction, and for the fourth time in a row, the writer Karan has set his story on the backdrop of America. It is worthy to note that even though his previous films were often light-

hearted, Karan showed that he is not afraid to tackle sensitive subjects as he did last time around with KANK. And even at parts in the film, Karan’s execution and handling of the subject showed glimpses of great talent, but trying to make the film another one of his romantic fairytales backfired completely. MNIK takes over where KANK left off- once again, Karan is trying to break the mould that he is only good at ‘Rahul’ melodramas, and create a more versatile image of himself. If the music is anything to go by, then the signs are good. But if you are a typical Bollywood song listener who wants another series of Rock n Roll Soniye, then you might want to change your expectations. Because this time, Karan doesn’t give in to commercialism- there are no Mahives and Pretty Womans or Where’s The Party Tonight. There is only pure, simple, quality music.

Sajda

Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, Ric

ha Sharma, Shankar Mahadevan

Well, that’s the way to start an album. You may have never heard anything like this in a Karan Johar film before- a slow, soothing, enchanting number with heavy Sufi touches makes this a must-hear for hardcore music lovers. Rahat who has been in fine form of late does a great job and Shankar as usual provides adequate cover. A great song to start the year with.

Noor-E-Khuda

Adnan Sami, Shankar Mahadevan, Shreya Ghosal

If you listen to Indian music often enough, you’d know that Adnan Sami is not accustomed to singing songs like this one, but he stands out like a shining light, overshadowing Shankar for most of the part, and Shreay as usual is at her effective best. The percussion and keyboard arrangements are the beginning are brilliant, and in so may ways, this song is similar in terms of class and delivery with Khwab Jo from London Dreams, also composed by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy. I couldn’t pick one over the other, but given the fact that these song has three stanzas and mixes classical and synthetically, this one has to take the cherry. Very Good.

Tere Naina

Shafqat Amanat Ali

Similar to Sajda, another soothing, enchanting number about love, only this time, it is heavier with Sufi and ghazal, making it almost a hardcore ghazal number. Listen to it a couple of times and you’ll be hooked for sure. The opening interlude for 18 seconds is a great piece of orchestra and music, and praise has to go to Shankar and co. for that little piece of composition itself. The entire atmosphere and aura of the song takes you someplace else entirely- could go down as one of the best quality composition of the year. Mind it, the year has just started. Pick of the album.

Allah Hi Rahem

Rashid Khan

Khwaja Mere Khwaja. Arziyan. Going on the similar lines is this qawwali devotional mix, and with this song, the fabulous array of talent the Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy trio posses comes forth. If you are an intent music listener, you’d appreciate this, beyond religious boundaries. Class.

Rang De

Shankar Mahadevan

Completely different from everything else in the album. If I am not mistaken, it will probably take place after the climax or during the end credits. A simple, uplifting, meaningful number about peace, and Shankar does his regular bit by rendering with panache for this song. It sort of completes the versatility of the album.

The album concludes with a theme music number, which is an intriguing piece.

A solid start to the year, expect more great stuff from the trio of Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy. Coming on the back of two solid albums in Wake Up Sid, and London Dreams, MNIK will continue SEL’s good form. As for Karan, the signs are that he has opted for only quality this time, and the results on the screen might be encouraging. And given the fact SRK is just as good an actor as he is a superstar, one can be assured that he has given his all playing an autistic character, and thus there are plenty of reasons for one to watch MNIK. At least I will.

Rating: ***1/2

The birth of a white flower.

Some 18 years ago, singer Unni Menon was given a call way past midnight, awoken in his slumber, and was told that accomplished director Mani Ratnam is recording songs for his new film and Menon’s voice was required for one of those numbers. Who works at this hour, Menon asked himself. But due to the fact that the name involved was called Mani Ratnam, Menon freshened himself up and rushed up to the mentioned recording studio, where he saw a young composer calling the shots.

Mani Ratnam, who so often works with the Maestro Illaiyaraja, has discovered a new talent to associate with in the music department. Menon wondered continuously if this young guy- whose name is AR Rahman, could really live up to the humongous expectations of having to compose for a Mani Ratnam film. He was given the song lyrics, the tunes were discussed, and on the wee hours of that one day back in 1992, Menon recorded a song called ‘Pudhu Vellai Mazhai’ (A new white rain), and went back home, back to his slumber. The doubts that he had before recording the song existed even after that- he didn’t think that he had sung the most catchy of tunes, that thought lingered in his mind. Little did he know, that when he went to sleep that day, that just like lyrics of the song proclaims, he has witnessed a new white rain, that will reign the Indian music arena over the following two decades. All the uncertainties over the song that he had sung vanished into thin air as he listened to the final version of the song one day- and as he listened, he realized that this song is not catchy, but instead it makes the hair on the back of one’s neck stand up and applaud.

That AR Rahman back then was 26 years old. Today, as he turns 44, that white rain has poured down not only in Tamil Nadu, but up until on Hollywood’s most famous stage- the Oscar stage. Rahman was the very first composer in Indian cinema history to win a National Award for his very first film, an award that he would go on to claim two more times. A honorary doctorate and a Padmashri, India’s fourth highest civilian honor, are just a little peek into a mass collection of awards and applauds that this modest, humble, soft-spoken name with an ever present smile on his face has achieved in his career. That innocent smile never waned even as he stood next and around the best luminaries of Hollywood while collecting his piece of the biggest cinema cherry in the world, nor did it wane as he stood flanked by beautiful girls in Akon’s Beautiful Girls music video.

What is so special about his music, some may ask. Who introduced Hariharan and Shankar Mahadevan, two of the most famous, most accomplished male singers in the industry today? Who made Hariharan sing ‘Thamizha Thamizha’ with such sensitivity? Who is it that managed to evoke the atmosphere of an unborn child who is going to born into a world of chaos and uncertainty through Vellai Pookal? Who is it that managed to re-create a 50s and 60s atmosphere without sounding like direct throwback in Iruvar? Who is it that re-composed India’s national anthem with such passion and ferocity? Who is it that made the whole nation re-kindle a long-buried Vanthe Mataram? AR Rahman is not only a good composer, he is a symbol- a symbol of a nation struggling unleash itself from the strangling, rusting ropes of past differences and attempting to move forward as one, as one whole country. He is a symbol of passion, of the ultimate craftsmanship an artist could ever express with his own work. Above all, he is the perfect symbol of an artist, a celebrity. A man who has the talent to put the world at his awe, but has the humility not take all the credit for his achievements. A man who has the calmness to rise above petty differences and embrace goodwill as his nature, and has that smile that shows, without having to tell, that he loves what he is doing, that we love what he is doing, and God loves what he is doing.

Ever lost hope? Ever lost faith in goodness? Ever lost faith in the beauty of life? Ever lost faith in the impact of talent and artistry? Look up to AR Rahman.

Today as this man turns forty-four, there is no gift that we could possibly give him that would override 18 years of him showering us with gifts of music. But what we could do is to forget that he is forty-four, and make him immortal along with his music.

Many more happy returns of the day.

For,

AR Rahman- You are the rare white flower (Vellai Pookal) that tomorrow needs. May there be more white flowers like you to come in this world.

P.S. The first paragraph description was an excerpt of an interview given by Unni Menon.

Avatar- Movie Review

It's been a long, forlorn 12 years since James Cameron last took his place in a director's seat. And 12 years ago, what he made made turned out to be the highest grossing motion picture of all time, in the form of the soap romantic tale of Titanic. When you foray into Avatar, which ends Cameron's long hiatus from direction, except nothing more that what you have been accustomed with while watching Titanic. You will be treated to watching a film where the storyline is something you are pretty familiar with, and Cameron will never try to surprise you with 'twist in tales' or anything such. You will know all along what's coming next, what's going to happen next. Why, if you are an ardent film-goer, like I am, you might even be able to tell how this movie is going to end within five minutes into its opening. It's cliched, its predictable. But Cameron never tried to make the film to seem to be something more than what it is. Clearly his ambitions lay in bringing out the eloquent world of Pandora into reality, to bring a humane connection between the audiences with the cultures and attitude of the native Na'vi people, and in creating an imaginary world, where the connection between the natural earth and its inhabitants is much more deep than just feeding and hosting.

And in that aspect, Avatar suceeds. Bringing forth ground-breaking array of technical and graphic capture achievements, Avatar is strung by stunning visuals, that will probably stick right into your pupils if you had went for a 3D version. Images that exude elegance and light, and in order to bring out the beauty of nature, Cameron has paid intrinsic attention to visual details, a blazing assortment of colors, timely sprinkles, all in all, it makes you feel there is a Pandora somewhere out there.

The story is pretty simple. An ex-Marin called Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) is called upon to a human base in an outer planet called Pandora which is inhabited by a native Na'vi tribe. He takes part in a large corporation's bid to coax the natives out of thair villages into order to posses large amounts of ubotranium minerals that are reserved beneath their village trees. It involves taking place in an 'avatar', a simulated fake body of a Na'vi, so that he could enter the tribal areas and demonstrate the friendly intentions of humans. Soon, the Avatar becomes who Jake Sully aspires to be and he earns acceptance among the tribe and fights for their rights against the greed of the corporation.

The villains are typically greedy, ignorant and cartoonishly evil, but the film on a larger scope has the feel of a saga about it, something that would appeal highly to the mass crowd seeking entertainment. Parts of the film's length seems stretched beyond necessity, especially the battle scenes around the film's climax.

Sam Worthington does a commendable job in the lead role, and even though half of the time he is lending the voice for his avatar, he manages to bring about the connection of the character transformation very well indeed. Zoe Saldana and Sigourney Weaver both are adequate in their roles as well.

The film is technically ambitious and delivers on the entertainment front with a decent script to go with a wafer thin storyline, though intellects shouldn't expect much substance from the film. If you have enjoyed Titanic, you'd probably nod for this. A good film for a light-hearted festive season.

Rating:***/5

The story of a man with a dream

A warrior woke up one day with new seeds of dreams protruding from his eyes. He sensed that it is his duty as a warrior to conquer uncharted territories, his duty to be on the vast terrains of the world, exploring, and making a change.

As that warrior sling his sword, as the sun greeted his new endeavor, he knew that this is the only way he would live, or die. By pursuing his dream. His kingdom, would, at large, wish him not to go. Not to take the risk to travel to faraway kingdoms. If he had stayed, they would have summoned him for a battle many years from now, in a path that they have carefully engineered for him, a path on which his soldiers and generals will take to the battlefield first- him next. But the warrior wants to be the first to charge, he wants to lead, he wanted to do it his way. For six years he traveled in great lengths, and slowly, changes begun to appear.

His kingdom no-more discourages his journeys- they approve of it. The warrior found friends along the journey who would proclaim great support to his quest. Once a lost quest has now become a quest that is very much real, achievable.

And one fine day, the warrior finally sees the mountain that he wants to conquer, the mountain on which he wants to build his own kingdom- he continued walking on the path never taken before, up until he reached the foot of the mountains- he has to start climbing. The time traveling on that steep roads flanked with bright colors on the left and the sea to the right is up, now it is time for another arduous task- climb up the mountain. And at the foot of it- demons who are ready to force him to give up- demons who want that mountain never to be conquered, never to be charted on.

He looks at the legion of demons and realizes they are much tougher opponents than he had expected, he takes out his sword. For a brief second, he looks behind him, and he realizes, how much faith had his friends and some individuals from his kingdom had shown for him, and he had to do this, using their faith in him as a spur. He fought the demons, and with each blow he took, scampering him onto the ground, the warrior pushed himself back up and continued to battle. The warrior has been battling it out for more than a week, at the foot, trying to clear off the demons and find the platform on which he could finally start climbing. But as the battle prolongs, the weaker he begins to feel.

This time, another blow was struck and with a loud thud, he fell on the ground much worse than ever before. He is bleeding badly. And then he realized, despite all the faith that spurred him on, he is after all made of flesh and blood, having to battle it out all by himself here doesn't seem a possible task anymore. He wishes he had a soldier, or a fellow warrior, or a general, someone who would charge the moment the warrior in unable to pick himself up quickly enough from a blow. As much as he pushes himself up time and again, he feels his hands have broken this time around, he couldn't push himself up. He needs a hand to help him up. His sword alone won't do the job, his conviction alone won't do the job. The warrior continues to battle, because that is the only way he knows he could and would live.

But today, ask the dusk sets upon the sea, watching silently this battle at the foot of the mountains, the warrior knows no-one out there listens to his groans, no-one could see that he is bleeding, no-one would offer a hand. He will continue, because that's the only thing he knows how to do.

But as he watches the stains on his sword, blackened clusters of blood, he becomes convinced he would end up dying way before he reaches the top of this very mountain he wants to conquer. Despite clinging on that faith- faith that his destiny is here, the warrior is on the brink of losing hope. The pain pierces through him once more, a faint light flickers across the distance in this dark land. Faint lights aren't enough anymore, he couldn't find the strength to walk to that light.

Wouldn't someone, someone who would finally aid him in his quest, bring the light towards him? Is he not entitled to have his soldiers, ever? Is this a quest of a lone warrior? Will he die here alone, oblivious to the rest of the world, beaten and destroyed with his spirits?

The Cybergypsies- Bear, (((rrrree)))(llie**&^ Good

Best book I have read in my life? Maybe. That was what I was telling myself some 2 weeks ago. Now, yes. It is the best. Indra Sinha's Cybergypsies is a stunning tour de force, entertainment in the form of book reading at the highest quality.

What doesn't the book have? Imagination? Yes. Suspense? Yes. Reality? Yes. Humor? A big fat yes. Sattire? Thoroughly. Emotion? Greatly. Intellect? Yes. Enlightenment? Yes again.

Everything one should and would ask from a book is in this 392 page of absolute great craftmanship.

Cybergypsy is the account of Bear (Sinha himself), a copywriter at an advertising firm who details his travels on the electronic frontier and also in his 'real' life, often hovering on a guilt of losing his real life as he gets addicted to the Vortex of imaginations, and trying to recuperate and win back the Eve- the woman of his life, the woman he married.

In between this two ends, Bear travels to deep aeons of humanity, through his work with Amnesty he is exposed to the biggest conflicts that took place in the world at the time of writing- i.e. Saddam Hussein's crude mass murder on thousands of Kurds in Kurdistan, The Chinese prison guards' electric raging brutality on Tibetan freedom pledges, and also a corporate company's crude blindfold after a gas explosion in its factory wiped out almost an entire skirt of Bhopal in 1984. Harsh realities yes, but Indra mixes these harsh realities with a pint of imagination, narrating the story to us a-la a Shades or a Vortex game. The book is a celebration of the reality in which we live in, telling that of a man who transfixed himself to a fictional world and by the end of the world, realized that the gargantuan reality, no matter how harsh or unnerving, is where he wants to be. How subtly he narrates he wants to be Eve more than a Luna he never knew, and how he sees a soil homing so many little insect lives to be more of a miracle rather than Cyri, the beautiful horse in the Vortex.

Above all, the book subtly reads to us that instead of choosing 'not to know' realities which are harsh and live in our own imagination, we could stand up and make a difference, and be counted for if we had the guts to be honest to ourselves and accept the truths around us.

Sinha is a phenomenal writer, one who relates deep humanity with his narration, a touch of subsequently stunning humor, and also is, on a personal level, an amazing person because he has in fact travelled to such contrasting ends in his travels. From writing an ad for a nuclear plant, writing a Kama Sutra book and narrating a voice over for a video adaptation of the book, talking to pornographers, trying to hack and sabotage into the computer of a person believed to be nude-picturing underage girls, sitting beside a man who writes an indefatigable, utterly logic defying letter to Saddam Hussein pledging him to flee Kuwait,receiving a letter containing torture items that were personal belongings of the Dalai Lama, and narrating ad voice over with actor John Hurt. He has done it all. And he tells it all to us in this brilliant book.

We get a glimpse of how the pre-internet generation were already addicted to the online bug, how viruses were already a fashionable trend back then, and above all we see how much the Internet becomes a vortex that sucks people in and caters as a permanent hom for many people, leaving them both destructed and delusional, and at the same time, how it acts as a channel of reality, an expression of free speech, a flow for information that were blocked by governments and also companies.

Read this book if you could. In one word, this is 'Important'.

THIS IS IT- REVIEW

If you are a Michael Jackson fan, then you’d be hard done to miss this wonderful piece of musical documentary.

If you are not, then Wikipedia him up, get to know him further, and go to theatre and discover the man you never knew. Yes, none of us knew him. Michael might have spent the eon of his adult life scrutinized in the public eye and by the unforgiving media which gave him a torrid time, but ever wanted to know how this reserved, silent looking enigma behaved, talked, walked, smiled behind all the images that the media is? Here is your answer- that is if you are observant enough to notice the small things that are shown in the film, things that define and paint the ‘real’ MJ for you.

First of all, talking on a technical point of view, Kenny Ortega should be given all the credit for making this film. Many predicted this will be just a PR stunt in order to recoup all the lost money when ‘This is It’ did not materialize after MJ’s demise. Instead, this documentary showed MJ and his passion, and also showed how much hard work it involves in making a concert of this magnitude. Everyone who conceived the idea of executing ‘This is It’, especially Michael and Kenny should take the cake for being such wonderful visionaries. By the time you walk out of the theatre, you will think it’s a waste. Not that the movie is a waste, but that the fact that ‘This is It’ was never executed is a waste- Never before has a concert of this magnitude been attempted to, and MJ, even at 50, had all the energy to have made it a stunning spectacle. ‘Smooth Criminal’ was re-shot in a 60s style, ‘Thriller’ was shot with a 3D effect, and also the ‘Earth Song’ had a new brilliant music video accompanying what already was a wonderful song. 10 dancers are transformed into a 1000 using CGI to be used as a background for ‘You Don’t Care About Us’. All these things are of such untried magnitude, we haven’t seen something like this on the stage before, and it is a pity we will not see it now. At least, the most we could do is watch this documentary.

Secondly, this film shows you an assortment of the very best. Check out MJ’s new lead guitarist, she could easily rival the legendary Slash, she was that talented (her name doesn’t stick with me yet), and the fact that she was a young woman on a guitar, and also pretty, makes her and her talent a feast to watch. The dancers are all from the top shelf, they are not only from US, from are spread from all over the world- from Holland to Australia. Only the very best are chosen for this project- from all involved areas, even for dance masters who even come from Russia. And of course you have MJ. If any of you thought he had lost it after not having performed at such an arena for almost a decade, you are definitely wrong. MJ sounds pretty much the same, and amazingly when he is on his attires, the ‘Prince’ looks genuinely like the ‘Prince’, his half-a-century age never showed.

To round it all, there is the somewhat personal side of MJ. Notice him having a lollipop in his mouth while watching dancers rehearse for a Thriller 3D video. Watch him give a wide smile full of satisfaction when Kenny says, ‘Lights out, hold for applause’ after rehearsing a song. I read once that the stage was MJ’s sanctuary, it definitely shows here. Such a perfectionist he is, he even knows accurately about the beats and the tempos of his own song that he can instruct his musical director. He takes enormous responsibility on the stage, he walks up and says ‘wait for my cue’; though he would be at the middle of the stage singing, already having his hands full, he still raises the cue for a new beat, or for the entrance of dancers, all the miniscule things were channeled through him. In an era where pop starts are pampered and look for a rest as soon as possible, MJ is like a God on stage, he keeps trying, he keeps going. ‘Let’s do it one more time, that is why we have rehearsals’- you hear him say that line thrice in the film, and that line summarizes his dedication to his cause. MJ only gave probably less than half of this effort (he says after singing ‘Can’t Stop Loving You’ that he shouldn’t sing because he should be saving his throat for the concert) yet it already looks a good enough effort in the rehearsals, imagine what he might have gave to the audiences if he had been at the concert. Apart from that, he always uses phrases such as ‘God bless you’ when anyone, anyone at all does a good job during the rehearsals, and every time he wants to change or disagrees with something, he would say ‘do it for love, L.O.V.E’. For some, it may have been cheesy that such lines are uttered during a stressful rehearsal, but be a skeptic if you want to be, but that is who MJ was. Notice him hugging everyone from the crew after a session. Watch him give a meaningful speech to his team when they wrapped up the rehearsals.

‘This is It’ is easily one of the best documentaries on rock music ever made, and the quotient of it was elevated even more by the fact that MJ did not manage to realize the one more dream he had, the one more vision that he had. However, This is It saves it from being a waste- cameraman who captured those magical moments, so that the people would know what actually went on in This is It.

And as the film rightly says- it’s a film for the fans. Cherish it. With love. L.O.V.E.

The Observer- Episode 8- Campus Tapestry

It started one day in a narrow corridor, I walked up clumsily, already missing the orientation, bespectacled at the size of a small orange class located in middle of many other orange classes.

Orange. A color untried. A display of difference. A blatant shout-out saying aloud to the rest of Malaysia- 'we are a stand-out'- all done from a distance, in a small shadowy, lonesome street in the middle of what was supposed to be the future city of Malaysia- Cyberjaya.

Before we turn back to actually take notice, three years and seven months pass, and you look at each other and realize that you need to ask that question- when are we going to see all of this again? Except for that one day in December when we might all stand in hordes, smartly-dressed- but the most we will be able to do is nod and smile in approval- flanked at one side by our parents of relatives- the other mentally relishing the end and a new journey to begin. But how many of us will take that long glazing glare, and look beyond this humane flaws, this criticisms, this less-than-perfections, this hype, and actually reflect what has happened in the past four years?

They got nothing to do with the purple, yellow, orange corridors. They have nothing to do with a fancily named Makan 'Lah', nothing to do with a sneering library baggage room caretaker, nothing to do with pregnant lecturers punching a doorknob in frustration, nothing to do with a class-whole attempt to remove a wisdom-plucked lecturer from teaching us consumerism, nothing to do with a herd-like rush to the labs and faculties as deadlines draw to a close. Nothing.

All they have to do is with us- the people. We made those 4 years. And beyond all these, I see stories that are worth carrying in our memories. Life often passes by being mundane and unspectacular, but little do we realize that all we need is the ability to spot an unique story.

When I came here, I was a youngster chasing a dream, who thought the dream was more important than anything else, that obsession is a good thing. Today, that obsession has transferred to passion. And unlike when I had come, everything else does matter- life's greatest lesson- nothing is trivial. Everything matters. Treat every matter with due respect and consideration.

Remember the young man who fought against the odds to be here- most of us neglect to know too much about him because it would make us feel guilty at our inability to cope with hardships as well as he has done. As well as he has fought against pain. When I came, I used to think my severe gastric was a pain off the top shelf. It is then that I realized so often we people try to potray ourselves on a standout by just inducing self-pity. Pain is an escapism to short-handedness. Since I met this man, I had stopped making pain a barrier for myself. You don't need to fight pysichal pain, but you need to accept it, and adapt it. When you do so, it becomes so much a part of you that you do not recognize that pain as a pain anymore. To date, it has been two full years since I last had a truly recognizable gastric attack. Now and then it threatened, but I never fed myself to entertain that notion. And would I have made this progress if I hadn't come here and met this person? No.

Many have viewed me over the course of these past four years as someone passive, quiet, reserved. I had a majority of my youth being just how I describe myself- an observer. Though detached to the normal eyes, I remain very much part of my surroundings, observing people, their attitudes, and always looking for stories. And when I told any small story I had found to my friends, they used to say they'd never find such stories in their campuses. My campus is unique- they'd say.

We all might stand up and yell a loud, deafening no to them, saying that our campus is just an overhyped rubbish- that the () sucks, that this () is ruined, so on and so on. But all those things don't matter. We matter. The stories came and were viewed because of who we all were and are. True again, we never had the environment of spending that much of time together as it would have been in any other campus- another thing we could rue about.

But at the end of the day, we can't reverse four years, and neither it is justified to have regrets as we collect our black caps and robes next month and make a beeline for escapism.

I do not know whether the place we had studied in for four years is unique per se or not. But a place is not unique by itself- it is the people who make it unique. I do not know the president to realize whether he is one unique man or not- but I do know this much- We are unique. We, when molded together, is like an assortment of different characters of different colors, a stunning variety- from an Indonesian bright mind whose humbleness beats you to death, to an eccentric tall guy who knows little more than being a nuisance, which is how I saved his number in my phone, to date.

Remember this assortment, as live fizzes too quickly, you might realize someday that this assortment was really something else. And rest assured, I will remember this assortment, even the tiniest parts of it, and even as years pass by and life drains any images of past- I will still be here, writing, typing, the quiet observer that I am, reversing the order of life and collecting larger images the quicker life passes by. We all stand at crossroads now. My path is visible. I need to travel alone. I know this day will come.

But though I travel alone, my path is one that collects stories, that is who I am, who discovers the little ironies of life and makes tapestry out of it. So go on in your paths. I hope when the day comes, you will have the time and memory to come see my tapestry.