Are All Taiwanese Girls Like You?

Love’s boundary being, blurred here, and, she still has no way of knowing, if this younger guy liked her, translated…

How Do I Tell Him, that When He’d Asked Me Out, He Looked So Serious, Like a “Man”? That He No Longer Looked Anything Like that Little Boy I Felt Secure with………

A Successful Foreign Relations?

The first time I’d met him from across the straits, his mother who looked only a little bit had him call me “older sister”. I thought, this boy looked so childish, he’s probably not yet twenty? And, him calling me an “older sister”, it’d, made me feel bashful, but, if the first time we’d met, I’d opened with, “I’m old enough to be his mother, he can call me ‘aunty’.”, wouldn’t that be, even more, awkward.

第一次和來自對岸的他碰面,他那看來大我不了幾歲的媽媽,客氣地要他喚我「姊姊」。我...illustration from the papers online…

Later, I’d learned, that his parents divorced when he was quite young, his mother married to Taiwan, while he’d stayed in China with his father, but he wasn’t cherished or loved, and, almost sent into an orphanage, and, in the end, he was, sent to a relative’s to live. And, because I’d felt bad over what he’d gone through, and I’d wanted to show him how welcoming the Taiwanese people are, I’d treated him like he was my younger brother for real, hoping, that there’s nothing but good memories for his time here.

Once at the end of a gathering, I’d asked him if he knew how to take the bus home, he’d told me he didn’t yet, and I’d, told him, “I’ll give you a lift home!”, he was a bit, surprised, but quickly nodded okay. But, we’d, gotten lost! And of course, this was, my fault, forgotten how he just arrived here, that all the streets looked alike, and I’d not confirmed it with him, and, wasted a lot of time.

I kept apologizing to him, but, he’s not, the least bit angry, and told me that he was, in an especially good mood, felt that sitting behind me was like going for a ride, then he’d asked loudly, “Are all the girls in Taiwan like you?”, like me? Because I was busy, trying to find the way, and didn’t want it to become awkward, I’d not asked him further, and stated that, “Taiwanese people are helpful to those in need.

And, it didn’t matter how I’d answered him it seemed, he’d continued ranting on, if that all the girls in Taiwan are like me, then, he’d definitely like the girls in Taiwan, unlike the girls there, all they cared about were themselves, and ignored people. Although I had my back towards him, couldn’t see his face, but, from his lifted tone, I could feel, that he was, very happy. As he’d said, he’d announced further, “I originally hated it here, but because of you, I’m now, in love with Taiwan!”

After hearing all of these “professions of love”, I’d become, flustered. But I’d told myself, that maybe, the people from the Mainland are straight forward, that he probably not meant anything by it, just treat this as a successfully international relation.

Do You Want to Go Out for a Walk Later?

The times we’d met up, although we’d met in groups, he’d especially loved striking up conversations with me, one day he’d even asked me quietly, “Do you want to go out for a bit a little later?”, I’d made up some bullshitting reason, turned him down, not long thereafter, he’d opened up again, “Give me your cell phone number then!”, I’d become, stunned, then, stuttered, “Maybe later.” “Why?”, he’d pressed me, and seeing how I’d grinned so awkwardly, he’d finally, stopped asking me.

I knew he was angry, anybody can get angry, after getting shot down twice. But how do I tell him, that he’d looked so serious, like a man when he’d asked me, he was, no longer that naïve boy with whom I felt comfortable, letting my guards down? I panicked. I was, afraid, what if, I couldn’t, handle it?

And in the end, he’d gone, like that wind, leaving behind, the regrets I’d felt about what happened with him.

Had I just told him, that our age differences is too great…if I can, control my passions toward him more…not led him on…maybe, maybe, he had, only wanted, to make friends with me, perhaps, I’d, read too much into it, and, chosen, to make my escape.

But, that, was it, no amount of assumptions is going to change a thing. And now, I can only, wish that he is, no longer, tied up by those, unpleasantries of his past, no matter where he is, he can, live his days happily.

And, maybe, this woman read too much into the signs, maybe, the guy had, liked her, and, the woman kept her guards down, because she didn’t want to lead this younger man on, and so, she’d, tried to turn him down gently, that, was the only thing she could do, at that time, and now, as she thought back, there’s nothing she could’ve done differently, to know more, and so, all she can wish was that this younger guy is living his life with everything he wants in life.


The Packed Lunches on the Alps

The heart and thoughtfulness of this tour guide is truly, amazing, translated…

As I went to Switzerland, I’d intentionally packed an extra kilogram of rice and an ironclad lunch box, because the tour guide said he was preparing a meal for us per day.

As we’d arrived in Switzerland, he’d actually asked for our lunch boxes, and took the three bags of rice from three of the tourists in the group, and told us to come to his room the next morning to get our packed lunches.

The tour guide is planning to use just that one night, to make thirty servings of packed lunches? That would be, impossible! All of us didn’t believe that he was going to be able to.

And, the next day early in the morn, when we got our lunches back, I couldn’t wait, and, it was filled with the salted duck e3gg, the spicy sausages, the pickled plum, the stewed bean curd, and the stir-fried vegetables, beautiful in color, and aroma, we were all, stunned.

Turns out, that in order for us to enjoy the nature in Switzerland, he’d had this thought about a “picnic in the mountains”. And in order to make this vision come true, after our tour during the daytime, he’d, become the master chef, took out the rice cooker he’d left at the hotel, with the foods he’d packed from Taiwan, and stir-fried the local varieties of vegetables, then voila, our lunches were made. It was seemingly a simple procedure, but, you can imagine how much heart, and how much energies he’d, put in.

And, just like so, on our tour, we’d gotten the tastes of Taiwan every single day as we’d trekked the Alps. When we got hungry, we’d taken out the lunch made and packed by our tour guide, the beauties of nature that surrounded us, with the giving of our tour guide from the night previous, we were filled, with gratitude for his kind thoughts.

And this still showed, that a little thought goes, a long, long, long way, because the tour guide worried that his tour group may not get accustomed to the foods served, he’d prepared them boxed lunches himself, and, it took a lot of his time and energy that’s for sure, but, it’d made the tourists in his group more appreciate of his thoughtfulness.

Trips Alone

Being an avid observer, of the surrounding environments, the life of a people-watcher, translated…

Because of work, I’d needed to have roundtrip travels from Hualien to Taipei and Taipei, to Hualien, in order to save up the fares, I’d often taken the “transferring commutes”, taking the double decker busses for some way, then the trains. This waiting and transferring, transferring and waiting, sometimes, I’d felt tension, and I’d, gazed out the windows, and suddenly, felt very relaxed, like it is, a sort of a miniature “trips alone” out of my ordinary life.

like this???  Photo from online…

In the process of my commute, I’d often initiate my “small theatre” mode, guessing at which seat I would be, given, would it be window seat, or aisle seat, would I get to see the sea? Or that I’d, start to observe the passengers all around me, from their ages, to what they’re wearing, to what games they’re, playing on their cell phone, the images from their FB homepage (am I being, too observant?), their LINE conversation (am I, breach someone else’s privacy?), listening in on the conversations (can someone call the police on me for that?)………all of these, are the points of origin of my imagination, I wanted to know, who the person who was, sitting closest to me was?

For a while, I’d even gotten so nutty, that I’d had to get the seat on the first row on the busses, that way, I got to, observe the driver at a close distance, and, his name would be, right up overhead, in front of me! In the age of Google, you will leave behind, an electronic footprint if you log online, and other than just imagining people’s lives, I get to, cross-check the facts, and, I’d often, lost control, in the one-hour ride, to the point that as I got off, and thanked the driver, I’d, actually became, genuine.

查看來源圖片like this???  Not my photo…

And so, this, is being a people watcher, and this person enjoys it, because, there are, NOT many other alternative “forms of entertainment”, so, he’d found fun, in observing the world around him, and, this trip alone became, more interesting, instead of just, watching that clock in the stations, wondering, when the busses or the trains will finally come and take you away!

Trips Alone

How the love the two of you once knew had, slowly, dimmed out, translated…

You’d Found a Café in the Snow that’s Growing, Sat Down. You Saw, Out of the Corner of Your Eyes, a Woman in a Red Jacket, She Sat, Leisurely, Sipping on Her Coffee, Looking Confident, But Not Too Proud, Seems to Tell the Rest, that She Knew that the Man She was, Waiting for, is Hers, Although He’d, Not Yet Professed His Love to Her………

I’d gone to Berlin for a lecture in the spring, there’s, still that coldness in the air there. The first evening in Berlin, you were, working on the PowerPoint presentation for tomorrow, then, suddenly, shouts broke through the silence of the night, someone was, shouting out racial slurs, you’d tilted your head out the window, saw some stumbling figures. You’d wanted to turn back to R, tell him, “It’s no big deal, just some teenagers”. But you’d, forgotten, that you’re, on this trip, alone.

You’d turned on the radio, the DJ said something in German you couldn’t catch fast enough, then, the song started, quietly. But, in this night that’s, disturbed, music seemed to serve the purpose of repair, but, although the music had, grasp onto a nerve of yours, but, you’d, worked along, and, failed to pay enough attention to what he was singing, until the final few lines, the trumpet started, sounding off in the background, and the singer, “it’s all so quiet”, and, the trumpet’s tune rose with the notes climbing up higher, then, as the highest note that the trumpet played came to a halt, the singer, “in Berlin”, and ended the song. You’d, immediately, gone online to search for the song, and, listened to it more than twenty times. It’s all so quiet, It’s all so quiet, It’s all so quiet…in Berlin. This section of the lyric, sounded like, they were, made for you.

illustration from…圖/李孟翰

Although this was the second time you’re here, Berlin was still a strange place to you, last time, there weren’t that many Muslim vendors or Turkish restaurants, and, it was, impossible, for you, to NOT feel discriminated here. But, why did you, gain that sense of unprotected vulnerability for the silent nights in Berlin now?

In Ginsberg’s poem “Returning Back to Time Square, Dreams in Time Square”, nobody saw that invisible trumpeter, only that poet who’d, stumbled down the streets, after the world changed, chasing that lost dream, accidentally, found the trumpeter again. You’d heard that trumpeter’s sorrowful music playing—or perhaps, it was, your hallucination too?

Or maybe, because it was, spring back then?

The repeated once chorus had:

I’d get lost anywhere

As long as I’m found

I could be anyone

in any town

Yes, so long as we got found, who would be afraid, of getting lost? Naturally, we’d not needed to worry of the various roles we’d played, so long as we get to, return to that very first, original role, assigned to us.

You’d gone to Athens for a meeting, the sun had, shone down everywhere. After the meeting, I’d gone to Mykonos. The bright sunlight reflected into the alleyways that twisted and turned like the walls of a labyrinth, you’d wandered aimlessly, and was, drawn to a table with an empty chair in front of a café, and, you took that very first photo of an empty seat. It was, very rare, that in the afternoons, the seats were, still vacant, and, you looked upon those empty chairs, like they were, alive, and waiting, patiently, for a customer to come and sit. But, you’d had, another, delusion, that all the customers from before never, actually left, that there were, the ghosts of, customers past sitting in the seats.

like this???  not my photograph…

You’d recalled how you’d traveled to many islands with R from before, once, she’d complained that you’d only, taken her to the islands, and, you were, dumbfounded, every time you’d, planned out the trips thoroughly, you’d made sure, to include an island in the itinerary, and she didn’t like that, and that, was when it’d, dawned on you, that she’d, favored the city living lifestyle. And so, you’d, thought, had you not scheduled these trips to these, islands………then, you’d found, that your thoughts, never actually, got off the islands you’d, gone to—you’d, kept pondering how to make the amends, should you, try satisfying her more the next time? As you were, about to, leave those, empty chairs behind, you couldn’t help, but look at them again, felt, that you’d not, gotten everything that you need, to take with you.

Those windmills in the distant hills, from a certain angle on the island, you could, get a complete view of, but, you seemed, to have, never caught them turning. Until the last day when you’re about to leave, you’d, walked to the ferry, and, you seemed, to have seen, the windmill, turned. You’d instinctively turned, to tell R, but, that huge cruise ship docked, broke your illusions—at which time, there was, a large group of younger eastern girls getting off, you couldn’t help, but look at them, and, so long as the ladies were thin and tall, you’d, sought them out, as if, trying, to find something that’s, familiar and lost……until the tourists all got onboard the ship, and, you’d, carried that nostalgia of unwillingness, alighted too.

You went to Yangzhou to lecture, the autumn light reflected onto the lakes. After supper, you’d gone with a group of younger scholars, to continue the meet in the city, they’d found a pub, “For Youth”, with a live band. And, as everybody went in, they’d, received a red bandana, turned out, it was, a day of nostalgia at the pub, other than the pop music from Hong Kong and Taiwan, the young musicians also performed the tunes from long ago. And everybody, in their Red Army bandana all, sang along too; in the help of alcohol, the revolution, seemed to have, begun all over again, and no matter how many products were, produced by the outside world. As you all left, everybody looked, and, there’s, that feeling of, vacancy. After exiting For Youth, the streets became, vacant too, and, Michael Buble’s “Home” came from the distance, there’s, that feeling of surrealness. You’d told everybody to stop walking, and the song was at:

Another aeroplane

Another sunny place

I’m lucky, I know

But I wanna go home

I’ve got to go home

You shook your head, “Come on, too overly expressive.” But, actually, you were, trying, to mask up the feelings that were, awakened in you; you’d become, another flighter; kept boarding the next plane, arriving at the next sunny place. But, you’d always, traveled, alone.

all alone, without the company of someone he loves…photo from online…

You’d arrived at Lithuania in the winter, but, the chills of the winter already got there ahead of you. Before the meeting was over, you’d, gone to the capital of Latvia, Riga. Your friend told you from before, that this country, is very tiny, but had, amazing architectures, especially, when nobody else was there. And so, you’d, gone out in the snow early in the morn, and trekked the streets. The winter morning, you’d, walked across, and in-between, those ancient buildings, like you’d, entered, into a dream of solitude: all the tourists, gone, only those, shy ghosts, still, lingered on. As you walked, there came, a beautiful woman from the turn of the corner, you couldn’t tell if she was, Latvian or Russian, but, there’s, that hint of sorrow, from either the northern weather, or some other reasons. The moment she’d, passed you by, you’d found, that a button was missing from her shirt. You’d wanted to turn back and share this with R, but if this time, she’d called you “boring”, you would’ve, had a valid reason; because this reminded you of Rilke’s book, mentioning how the young maiden the man bumped into, and he’d found that a button was unbuttoned from the back of her shirt, and, guessed at how she must’ve, felt angered by something before she went out…………and, you’d, mentioned it to R: the time she’d, rushed out the door, and, you’d, chased after her, to button up that missed button on her back………

In the storm that grew, you’d, found a café to sit. The snow fell harder outside, and, you’d, worried about the woman you’d, just encountered, that she might freeze from the cold, then, you saw, another woman, in a red jacket, sipping on her coffee in the corner, looking self-confident, but without the ego, like telling those around her, she knew that the man she was waiting for was hers already, although he’d, not professed his love to her yet……at this very moment, a memory of winter came clear to you. R too, once wore her read coat and waited for you in a café. That day, you were running, seriously late, and, as you’d arrived, you’d, apologized profusely, but she’d, spoken aloud, “I’m not, waiting, for you!”

It was, Christmas Eve, you’d recalled, in the U.S. everybody was, spending the evening with someone who’s closest and mattered most, same for the international students. But R arrived Maryland, and, passed through that final Christmas Eve you’d had in the States, but why? She’d, corrected herself: that she was there, for something else, but, there wasn’t anything planned on Christmas Eve, so, she’d, come find you. But, you’d not done anything special, just strolled around South Seaport, and, carried on, in disconnected conversations. It was, really cold that evening, and, the two of you, started, breathing out white air, but, neither one of you was, in a hurry, to find a warm place to sit. Did you feel, that it wasn’t, needed, to have other people around? Or, simply because, you can’t, find a place to sit down? You can no longer, recall. But, the only thing you’d recalled was, as the two of you, leaned in against the railing, and, gazed toward the distant lighthouse, blinking, she’d suddenly inquired, “Do you like, traveling alone?”, without a second of hesitation, you’d, replied, “I used to, from before.”

And so, that, was your experience of love, and, the two of you had, shared so many memories, but, for some reasons, you two didn’t, work out, and, you’re left, with these, memories of the love you’d owned and lost, feeling, nostalgic…

Our In-Laws from Germany

the union like this one, maybe???  Photo from online…查看來源圖片

Seeing the newlyweds, and the parents of the groom, expressing their love to one another, translated…

With her head of blonde hair, smiling so radiantly, with that sky-blue, red collar dress, she’d looked, very much like a cartoon character out of a Northern Europe animation—and that was, the first impression, our in-law, Emma gave to us. As she saw us, rushing up from Taipei to pick her up, she’d, immediately, gave us hugs, and kisses on our cheeks, and, it’d, lowered that unsettlement of not knowing how to interact with an elder, it’d, made us connected. Hugging is truly, the way, to break the ice between the various cultures that’s for certain! As for the father-in-law, Emma’s dad, he’d, acted, more reserved, I suppose, it’s something to do with his profession, being an attorney and all, he’d worn a light smile, and nodded, to acknowledge us, in a white suit, he’d, resembled Gandalf in Lord of the Rings!

That was the very first time my wife and I’d, gone to a wedding in Europe, and it was, a German-style wedding too, my youngest sister-in-law, Ping, and Abbey Bear is about to walk down the aisle. The loved ones flew in, from all over, my wife’s second eldest sister and we were, “representatives from Taiwan”, we’d taken over ten hours’ flight, from the Netherlands, to Hamburg, then, drove to gather at Copenhagen, six hours away; Abby’s mom and dad took Abby Bear’s classmate’s ride, came from the Sylt on the west of Germany.

with the bride and the groom togehter, pouring itno the same glass!  Photo from online…

The very next morn, the huge group of relatives gathered, to head to the location of the wedding, city hall, and, it truly was, like in the movies, all the way there, we’d, received blessings from strangers. And of course, the happiest was, no other than Abby Bear, for he’d, waited, more than three autumns, to make this forever promise.

Since we’d arrived from Denmark, we saw Abby’s mom leaning close to Abby’s dad. Abby Bear told us, because his mother wanted to cherish every single moment she has with him—Abby’s father was diagnosed with an illness similar to Lou Gehrig’s Disease, couldn’t sit a long time, and, his neck became, weakened too, and so, as they’d heard that Abby Bear was getting married, they were, too excited. As the wedding ceremony draws to an end, hearing the father announcing that Abby and Ping were then, husband-and-wife, Abby’s parents were, grinning ear to ear, like they don’t have, any regrets anymore.

The joyous atmosphere of the wedding extended all the way to the outside of the plaza outside city hall, Abby Bear’s classmate poured the champagne, and, at this time, Abby’s dad, who’s actually, very uptight suddenly, led his friends and families, to sing that folk song in German, to bless the union, they were very moved, and, it’d, moved all the tourists who’d trekked across the plaza. This wedding was like that strong shot of morphine for the two elders, Abby’s dad who’d been sick a long time looked very alive, and, Abby’s mom, looked deep, into his eyes, like they’d, just, fallen in love together.

The westerners’ show of their love for each other, was totally, different from the Asians’. Seeing how Abby’s dad danced around with Abby’s mom, looking deeply, and lovingly into one another’s eyes, it was, such a sight of joy. But, as I’d, looked back toward my wife, she too, was, gazing at me, using that same way too; the way her curled eyebrows looked when she smiled, it was, comparable, to Abby’s mom, and, thinking of how I still have this, teenage girl who’d, loved me, and looked upon me with that sort of admiration, what else, can I ask for in life?

And so, from this experience of a wedding abroad, you’d realized, how the westerners’ show of love is quite different from the easterners’ show of love, but, love is felt, no matter which way you chose to express it.

Not Yet a Traveler

Comparing oneself, and one’s own friend on the trip they took together, and at the end, she’d, understood about herself a little bit more, translated…

I kept believing that I’m an expert traveler, and started in my college years, I’d gone all over the places, and, as I’d started working, I’d gone on trips alone, to the recently opened up nations, I was among, the earliest tourists to Angkor Wat, Burma, along with Java, Indonesia, and places as such. I’d paired up with my former classmate, Helen to travel together, and realized then, that I was, a tourist that took the “comforts from home” with me out of the country.

this, is how you’d, traveled…photo from online…查看來源圖片

We’d met up at the international airport early in the morning, and, the flight to New Delhi, India was, on time. I saw Helen, with a huge backpack, and a small bag in her hand, without anything else she’d packed. I’d thought, that she’d, forgotten her luggage back in the cab, but, what befell me, was the items she’d, packed, for our twelve days of journey abroad. Now, look at me, the same twelve days, I’d had an oversized luggage, with a backpack, and my laptop too.

As we were waiting for the flight, I’d, gone to change into a less heavy, but warming “airplane outfit”, and, as I’d found my seat on the flight, I’d set up my pillow, and put my slippers on; and, as the flight took off, there was no air currents or turbulences, I’d immediately, put that moisturizing mask on, swallowed my multi-vitamins, then, readied for bed. Eight hours later, the pilot announced that we are about to descend to our destination I’d immediately started my sunblock routines, pulled out an assortments of moisturizers, sunblock……as we’d gotten our luggage, I’d, immediately, pulled out an outfit for travel, readied, to put it on. Based off of the schedules of the tours we had, there were, varied accessories, and shoes that goes with each and every occasion; each night as the itinerary ended, and we’d returned back to the hotel, I’d, worked hard, to repair my own skin. And, for Helen who was on this trip beside me, she had on her leisure jumpsuit, and sneakers, and as she’d arrived back into the hotel, she’d only pulled out her toothbrush, her toothpaste, and her pajamas to change into. She had stuffed a jacket, two sets of clothes to change in and out of, without any of the items for beauty and reparation of skin that I’d had.

Compared to how I’d hurried to find the internet connections as we’d returned back to the hotel, to share my journey with my loved ones, to have NO time zone difference with Taipei, Helen practiced her de-tox from the internet, not checked her Facebook and LINE, she’d not even cared, if she was, completely, tanned, shut off her style of comfort living in Taipei, to get out of her own, time zone.

and this, was how your friend had, done it…photo from online…

Compared to my packed up suitcases with things I’d needed for my life back in Taipei, Helen only had a backpack with her, but, she was, more of a sojourner than I am, simplified everything she had, and, able to, take in more of what she’d, encountered on this trip. So, I was only someone, who’d, traveled, with my comfort zones intact, not yet considered, a traveler.

So, this, is what you’d found out about yourself, on that trip with someone, comparing how you and her differed in your styles of travel, it’d made you understood, that your friend was able to, travel more freely, without the baggage from back home, unlike you…

The Snow of Ohara

A philosophical encounter from a trip to Japan this person had, translated…

Ohara, located at that spot draped over by the forests in Kyoto. I’d not wanted to visit during the high season, insisted on coming by on a day when snow fell, in order to see the snow, before it was, actually, snow, and if I was blessed to, that would be, incredible.

I’d come, all the way, from the city, the daytime sun shone, and there was, snow falling light. The world was, covered in light snow, felt like I’d, entered into a heavenly place, described in that poem.

Outside the House of Three Thousand, the stone wall stood, erect, with the plate hung on the top of the gates that said, “Site of Three-Thousand House”, the characters were, printed very neatly. The “traces” meant that this place was once, taken care of by the royals. There was a pebble paved path inside, that cut through the center, on the other end was, the Nirvana gardens. In there, were the ancient artifacts, the room was, dimly lit, with only, the light from the sun entering. Based off of the texts, the colorful prints were of the Flying Skies and the Goddess of Mercy, and it’d, passed through thousands of years in history, and that original color was, turned, into this, elongated river of time.

查看來源圖片a photo of the place the woman traveled to to sightsee, from online…

The flowers in the garden bloomed loosely, decorating the place, the flowers, disregarded the cruelness of the snow. The dead trees, the frozen water in the gardens, with the ruler of hell in a stone statue, smiling down on it.

There was a song in Japanese that described, “The Ohara House of Kyoto of 3,000, there was, one woman, being tried by love there!”

I don’t know the story of this woman, but, I’m thinking, that other than her broken heart, she must’ve, taken along her sense of missing someone here too. All the wounds stemmed from love. And, nostalgia was, born out of the love, like that flower that stayed, hidden in the snow in the gardens, you’d had to, look very closely, to see. Memories, sometimes, awakened by a scent, or, the encounter of certain things, sometimes, it’s our hearts that’s made us remembered. Sometimes, it’s the segments in our dreams, stacked up, intertwining, like that that string of beads, rustling inside.

People in deciding, on walking out of the world, was never because of their natures, but because they’d weathered through the sadness, the happiness, the noisiness, after they’d drowned, in the life that they had, gotten separated from their love, and so, they’d, entered into a world of silence, from the noisy world.

In the smaller towns all around Kyoto, the flattest and most desolate, was Ohara. And, as the bus sped onto that winding track, before it’d arrived in Ohara, looking out, there were, mountains, covered in snow, surrounding the plains. The world was, completely, white, like nothing lived there.

Right before the snow is about to fall, that, is when it’s the coldest. At the time, the world is, sealed, by this frozen state, and, people’s awareness, also, freeze up, and start, cracking. and we’d been, misled, into thinking, that time had, stood still, looking back through that chaos we’d endured through in our lives, setting our minds and souls, adrift. And still, at a certain moment, the universe started moving, the wheels of time, started, turning slowly again, and, everything around you, became, unobstructed, and, everything that you previously experienced, no longer, existed. The snow, then, have no need to, fall.

a place like this, maybe???  Photo from online…

The woman injured by love in the song, in this desolate place, listening to the wind coming from the woods and the mountains, soaring through the skies, watching the snow fall, the lake frozen, like a mirror of reflection. And, she’d let go of that dust inside her heart, and her former sorrows, all gone, with the slow-to-pass time.

The snow on the plains, falling silently, but, if it were, too silent, then, it’d become, too cheesy, thankfully, there’s still love in the world, the wind blew, rousing up everything around.

And so, by being in this snow, that, is what you’d, come to the conclusions of, how everything, like the snow, is only temporary, that nothing in the world is meant to last, and, you have, NOTHING to feel down over.