The smallest coffins are the heaviest.
Months ago, I slept over a friend's house. As soon as the lights were turned off, the silly jokes and equally silly gestures were replaced by an existential discussion. One of the topics we've covered was language, which at that time was very fitting as she was about to take Mandarin lessons in Shanghai for the next 6 months while I was contemplating on learning how to speak French (I didn't go to France to study unlike her though hahaha). We were wondering if language is an effective indicator of a person's intellect. We even went so far as recalling an internet article which described two tribes who both needed to accomplish a certain task. One was taught the word 'Left' while the other was left to its own devices. The latter remained as chaotic as it's always been while the former worked harmoniously until it's reached the finish line. We take them for granted but words contribute greatly to civilization.
Tank top: Zara | Pants: Old Navy | Shoes: Aldo | Jacket: Gap | Bag: Kipling | Ring: Aldo | Necklace: from Bangkok, Thailand
Paramedics finished her text, "... love you."
If a single word like 'left' already rouses comprehension, then it must mean that a few words can tell an entire story. When Ernest Hemingway, as legends say, made a bet that he can tell a six-word story that could make anyone who's read it cry, and actually won such bet, I was challenged to come up with something as concise and vivid as his. But of course I'm only deluding myself. He's Hemingway and I'm just a pretend writer. Besides I'm too superfluous in speech that a question which is answerable with only a phrase begets a paragraph response. Case in point is the job interview that I've went to yesterday. I've been asked to return for a second time so the company's VP for Human Resources can interview me himself. (I intentionally dropped this information as up to now, I am still so fond of the VP. He made me wish I have a grandfather who'll spoil me rotten. He had been so accommodating and pleasant that he laughed at all the silly anecdotes he asked me to discuss. I can't recall any skeleton in our family's closet but I know for a fact that the only grandfather figure I can remember is my late great grandfather Amama. He's among the very few who thought I was beautiful - and would always tell me so every time my brothers would make me cry - even in my early adolescent years where the pictures prove I looked my worst. Hahaha!).
He bottle-feeds his wife's killer.
The title I used for this post is my attempt at conveying a story in six words. Didja like it, didja like it? I've a predilection for any story that ends with death upon an important character, remember? The two lines shown on a pregnancy test resulted into death of the mother, that is what I was trying to paint. I initially wanted 'Two Lines Caused Two Flat Lines' which implies that both the mother and child die, which then would somehow imply that abortion took place. At the moment, I'm not prepared to tackle my stand on so delicate a matter.
My cousin Rayne (who will turn 6 next month) and I in our matching Kipling bags.
I am a very talkative person who, just like everyone else, uses silence as the beginning of an offensive attack. What follows is a series of short sentences that I will load with psychobabble bullshits. I've to muster a laconic approach while ensuring that my wit, however minimal, is on point. When in a word war, brevity is a much loaded weapon. And then I'll finish with a maniacal laugh for a more powerful impact. Mwahahahaha
Did I get my point across or only my train of thought's tendency to wander?
A son abused. Another son abused.
All six-word stories from HERE