AUDITOIRE: What brought me to Antartica to celebrate my 21st birthday?

...

I fell inlove with the world...

To Antartica at the end of world, I have come and so I say this (mind you Mr. Werner Herzog):

To the mind, I am only a concept: seamlessly revolting, moistened on the inside and dry on the outside.

To the spirit, I lack the immensity of the soul, its richness, its air, its truthfulness. I sway around with the wind where ever it goes.

To a sea, I am the beacon that shine on ships to sail them up, up, up to the shoreline of their dreams.

To a mountain, I am the grass that crawl on its floor. I am a falling light, a broken rain, a sweet asphodel of hope. I am an opalescent figure of folding water from the streams.

To a tree, I am a leaf that sway to and fro in the rain. I debranch myself along with trunk.

To a field of rice, I am grain tossed in the wind, carrying the follicles of growth.

To God, I am nothing. My life, my will, my memory is not mine but His.

To a prism, I am the light of the world.

To a moon dancing in the midnight sun, I am a fig, an owl, a breath of air.

To a grain of sand, I am the atom that powers up the windmill of discovery.

To time, to leisure, to yields, to yearn, to cry with arms up, to cry smiling: I have live through all this, through this life I survive the twenty-years of shocks, disarrays, disillusionment, crossings, solitude, journeys to far lands, and peace, above all, peace.

Whose is this life for anyway? Why live enormously in the everyday? Why wake up in the morning abreast with a thought another day has come?

To all the penguins in Antarctica, let's get it on! Hahaha! now presenting...

I LOVE THE WORLD because...

(1) ...Werner Hezog has a way of turning cute penguins into symbolism of death and a long quest for the affirmation one's life.

But why?

(2) ... Charlie bit me!

Charlie bet me! And that really hurt Charlie!

(3) ...Everytime I watch this ending, I cry...

I am old too!

(4) ...Claire Dennis reconstructs obsolete styles in art cinema...

Serve the good cause and die... This is the rhythm of the night!

(5) ...I read this poem when I was twelve, it amazes me until now.

We Real Cool
by Gwendolyn Brooks

THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.