March 15, 2003


A part of me is a frail silhouette in the distance and fast disappearing. It talks to me in a language that I am being forced to learn due to its sheer incomprehensibility. It paints pictures in colours and gestures I have never seen before. I am scared, I am excited, I am emptied of innards, pleasant and unpleasant. Behind is another silhouette with its own familiar language and a tattered book of meanings, poignant and now ephemeral. My lengthening shadow envelopes it in one final embrace as words, old and new, chokingly fail me.