Snow

I come from a country without snow.

The only times where I have seen snow occur abroad when I am traveling. Snow, therefore, is foreign to me, a concept that is impalpable. Bits and bits of crystalline flake drop from the grey, pale sky, forming a horizon full of white and greyscale, an endless lack of colour. It not only drains the vision of my surroundings, but also the smell, the life, the soul, striking up none but apathy in my heart.

Is this what they call happiness? To relish in the entertainment that crystallized water brings, to engage in false hopes that constructed beings contain life at all. They are hearths of fire burning in the snow, as if the laws of nature bend to accommodate them. Or are they just holding up flags of red, pretending to be blazing? In this distance I can no longer tell, no do I really care.

Is this what they call bliss? The feeling of togetherness, of warmth of the company. Clearly this would be very contradictory, something I cannot ever comprehend. One by one they fall, the poor tender cotton, until they homogeneously dissolve into the unforgiving coldness of the ground, to fade into the grey, but to be stepped upon, to be reverted back to water, to be brushed to one strange side of the road and be ever forgotten, ever trampled upon.

Is this what they call generosity? Slices of red, green, yellow... Seem to be an attempt to nullify the endless miles of dullness. But when the truthful flakes fall upon these false colours, the messenger of cleansing, none of these colours remain, all reverting to dye, flowing in a sheen of corrupted rainbow down the river of sighs.

Is this what they call love? I dare not, but look askance, for my heart is already frozen over, and, if taken to hell, would not thaw. I am the most evil of them all.

But in this season of snow, I feel that it is time that I look into the snowflake, and stare into my own reflection, to gain an introspection. Perhaps I may see darkness, or light, who knows. All I know is the uncertainty, the layers upon layers of black and white that I will have to peel through. And perhaps after an eon I would realize, that I am but a human after all.

(http://raymondthang.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/800px-the_disappearance_of_haruhi_suzumiya_movie.png)

The most beautiful clown

And it all will fade to black

Who are you, you who follow me
Whether daylight shines, or moonlight dims
Ever mimicking my actions, my posture
My emotions, my soul.

What a fool you are
To pretend to be someone
Fading.

Did you come from the past
A ghost, to haunt me of my sins
To creep up to my soul and declare war
To disarm me, without any force

What a fool you are
To mimic someone
Fading.

Do you come from the future
To drag me into the twilight
Into the underworld of uncertainty
Into the depths of eternity

I shall be banished
And you, along with me
Shall perish.

Are you me, are you me
Do you feel, do you think
Can you talk, can you hate
Shall you love? Shall you love?

You are none but my puppet
A puppet that controls me
A puppet that turns life astray.

Do you dare look into the mirror
Face yourself, face the light
Face the reflecting persona
I dare you, doppelganger.

You are but an empty me
To assume that I have substance
You are there to mock me

I will dim the lights
Hide indoors, close the curtains
Blind the windows of sight
But you will not go.

You will linger in the pale moonlight
A rectangular projection of limestone
And you will be there, you will be there
Eternally to mock me, to mock me.

On "Steins;Gate"

"I've only lived 18 years, but I don't want to change any of them. They're all part of my life, even the failures" -Kurisu Makise

Steins;Gate is truly, absolutely one of the most striking and profound animes (given what I have watched that doesn't say a lot actually. I am also aware that I am around 3 years late). To start with just listen to this genius of an OP:




I watched from episode 18 right till the end in one sitting. It is the first anime, or even any show to glue me to the seat, disturbing my mind until I reach the end, and propel me to write something here to praise it.

Steins;Gate's plot could be described as an experiment on time, or fate itself. It parallels the protagonist, Rintarou Okabe's mind in discovering the secrets behind time travel. From a curious endeavor, a practical (and exciting) discovery to realization of the dire consequences of manipulating timelines, Okabe attempts to undo the profound imbalances he and his fellow "lab members" have stricken upon the delicate fabric of time, or "world lines", through the butterfly effect. The whole plot only lasts for merely three weeks in the life of every member, everyone except Okabe, who jumps back and forth in time, witnessing tragedies happen over and over again as he battles constantly against overpowering antagonists, fate, and most importantly, his own psyche.

The show, despite having heavy fantastical elements, stays true to the virtue of time travel experiments and scientific exploration, uncovering unknown technology that attracts danger. It allows the viewer to get into the head of a commonplace man suddenly dragged into the fray, and wished this all had never happened. The use of repetition magnifies the trauma Okabe receives in the span of his perilous journey to save his companions (and the world, but *cough* spoilers *cough*). The use of cold and sometimes dark colour schemes really bring out the heavy tone of the whole piece, along with the clever use of imagery, introspection and foreshadowing. The awesome and epic music makes this show almost perfect (apart from the slightly too bombastic character of Okabe and the seldom "poisonous" moments).

Many may think that time travel is the dream of mankind, being able to rectify mistakes made in the past, build a perfect story of humankind. Steins;Gate crushes this dream and throws its debris back at the viewer, setting the question whether time travel is something we desire, whether humans are, after all, "temporal creatures who in fact exist as time, within time", and are best left alone this way, or is there a way to cheat fate, to break the shackles of the world line (the "divergence limit"), whether there is a possibility to put time travel to a good, responsible use.

Shadow

“I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.”

 - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar