Fifty Years in this northern land
Living as a machine that speaks
Living as a human under a yoke
With a pure indignation
Written not with pen and ink
But with bones drenched with blood and tears
Is this writing of mine
Though they be dry as a desert
And rough as a grassland
Shabby as an invalid
I beg you to read my words.
Though it might not be a galactic adventures, but this January Bookish Box is definitely an adventure on its own. My first foray into subscription box was back in November, and as I have mentioned on the post, the box itself was shipped from the US on the 17th of each month. Mine arrived on literally the last day of November. So, it still counts as November box. I skipped the subscription on December and I re-subscribe for the January box. I thought the same would have happened, that I would get my box on the last day of January, but oh no! The box arrived on 14 February 2018! I legitimately believe that the box was just lost or something. So, that explains the super late review of the January Bookish Box.
And it really doesn’t help that February was just so hectic.
I see him everywhere I look.
I see him in the roads that I take, in the buildings that I visits.
I see him in the empty seat.
I see him in the doors that I lock.
I see him in the slippers that were left behind.
I see him in the way that he fixed the bed for me.
I see him in the clothes that he hangs when he irons my clothes.
I see him in the chocolates that he bought on a whim.
I see him in the Advil that he no longer needs.
I see him in every corner of the house where he used to lay down, sit down, wash the dishes.
I see him in the neighbourhood that he loves.
I see him in my phone setting because he used to beg to have an internet connection when we’re out and about.
I see him in the blue sky, because I used to tell him, “hey, look at the clouds. Take a picture of it. It looks so surreal.”
I see him in the stupid way people drive their car, because I usually cussed and he would hold my hands and say, “hey, I know they’re stupid, but we’re here together. It’s going to be fine.”
I see him every time I close the door, because usually he’s there with his arms stretched open, welcoming me in a hug as if to say, “hey, we’re here, we’re safe, the day is over, and there’ll be better days tomorrow for us.”
You would think that February being identical to anything lovey dovey due to the fact there’s the Valentine’s Day would be filled with everything gooey, romantic, or whatever overly sweet stuff you can think of. But, not for yours truly. This has been one hell of a crazy month. I mean, you would think being the shortest month in the year, this will be a smooth sailing chill kind of month, but oh no. It’s like, why would you let people have fun when you can work them to death? Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it is not entirely off base, so to speak.
All my life, I have been told ‘go’ and ‘come.’ I am told how I will live, and I am told how I must die. I must be a man’s servant and a mare for his pleasure, or I must hide myself behind walls and surrender my flesh to a cold, silent god. I would walk into the jaws of hell itself, if it were a path of my own choosing. I would rather die tomorrow in the forest than live a hundred years of the life appointed me.
All of us were made by someone else, and all of us have some thread of steel that nothing and no one can cut.
So, just yesterday I decided to watch The Post. To be perfectly fair, I hadn’t even seen the trailer yet, but it has Tom Hanks in it, so it must have been good, right? As I was waiting in line for the tickets, I googled the trailer and I was interested head on. It seems like it was going to be my cup of tea. And whilst the movie quite resembles a flat line, in the sense that it doesn’t have any highs nor lows, I still quite enjoy the movie. I mean, you know about the story, there wasn’t going to be any surprise there, right?
Well, I was wrong, because I was definitely surprised (and not in a pleasant way) throughout the movie. Here’s what I think..