Now I get to see bougainvillea very rarely. Once upon a time it grew in abundance in front of our home spreading a pink glow on our walls. To me, a child then, it was one of the pleasant wonders of nature. I loved the way the flowers took on an ethereal transparency. Then as we left that house, the memory of bougainvillea faded. When I saw it again a week ago, I remembered the mornings I had spent looking out of the window as dew settled on the pinks and greens of bougainvillea. I also remembered how I saw my husband for the first time when he was a teenager and I, a scrawny school girl.
Guess I am out of touch with everything right now, so no blog entry for many days. From many days, a question is bothering me. I haven't found a satisfactory answer yet. So I'll write it down here. Maybe anybody who reads this may know the answer. "Just because we are journalists, writers, opinion creators and thinkers, do we have the right to judge others? Either personally or professionally?" I think we don't have the right to judge a person, even if we are right. But as writers, we would have to judge others whether we like it or not. And it's very difficult forcing people to think, but that's what we are doing or pretending to be doing right? Another question: "How come life is so simple if you just let it live by itself without bothering much and so complicated if you try to manipulate it or even understand it?" Blessed are the ignorant. We who can understand everything, try not to let anything go by without understanding and thus miss the b
Comments
Post a Comment