Monday, March 28, 2011

an old mail

When I started reading it, I tried to remember what it was. When I started remembering, I slowly recalled. Then I believed I had really written it. Then, I was embarassed to have written it. But I was happy to be embarassed because the very fact that I'm embarassed about it now is because I've moved ahead of what I was then, maybe a little bit evolved from then. So, the embarassment and delight go togther. Maybe I'll be embarassed someday that I wrote this. But I'll be happy about it all the same. Nostalgia is a waste of time. Nostalgia is biased. It only reminds one of the nice things of the past. If one tries to recall the not-so-nice things too, one'll feel things are fine the way they are today and one wouldn't really feel too great about the past or too bad about the present. Life goes on all the same gradually evolving as slowly as a centimetre of more water on an ocean.

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