[some images are from village-oblivia
and some are mine]
I was thinking of making the best post for my birthday but i don't think there will ever be a greater post than a series of random, eccentric images to depict the evolution of my thoughts but then i don't have to discuss further the notion of birth or existence (leave it to my inner being, he will handle my existentialist thoughts) the only thing that puzzles me now aside from pulling this off is the quintessential fact that i have to celebrate a day that i think one of the most ordinary days of my life time is such a pain in the ass no wonder why James Joyce contracted ULYSSES in one single day I hope i can be more engaging in writing this post but it seems that I am stripped away from reality after watching Dziga Vertov's Three Songs for Lenin (1934)
Three Songs for Leninbut anyways i always do want to have a bit of a post for my birthday one that will recount the best days of my one year of constant struggle of finding a niche a public place and a clean methodical way of living the lift of my pen and the plunge of every finger in my keyboard signifies a new journey or another term paper or a spreadsheet document willing to wait until the hour of doom the streak of light from my window or the quiescent coffee beside the foliage of my film books floods my candidness and lift my spirit to heights It is as if my year has been locked in these moments the fire is drenched and refurnished and there is nothing i could do
My birthday.
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