This is not helping. Looking at facebook n typing a blog. I need to get it out. Writing has gone back to paper. I seem to connect more that way. It just happened that the other day Dylan asked me why I hadn't written here, so I thought of doing this again. And then am flooded with things to write about. I know i have to continue with my French account. But then i have to do that sometime later, I guess.

To say about coming home... It's been exactly 2 months that I'm here. Had thought I would be back, settle into a nice job. Have loads of fun with friends. Go for movies. Some trips to the beach. Catch up on loads of news. And feast on Goan food.

Well none of that happened. At least not in the magnitude expected. Met friends, yes. But also realized that life is stranger than I last thought it strange. People seem closer when you are far away. Or is it me? loneliness strikes you right in the middle of a crowd. This music from pearl harbor, hauntingly beautiful, is not helping at all. And now the tone i had set aside, again is eating into me.

Had thought about being a teacher. Teaching is a vocation. And I think I really have it. Never feel happier than when I am in a class reading out a lesson to a class of 12 year olds. Trying my best to make it interesting to them. And then they laugh at my jokes. Listen to my explanations giving their own suggestions. And then of course there are those questions. Mostly nonsensical ones. But I love them. And then today was the farewell party of one of the teachers. She had been teaching primary school children for the last 40 years. Believe me it's feat. 1st std kids. It's so frustrating when you can't understand them. They are adorable and you want to do everything to be there for them, but when they want something out of your reach, you are helpless to do anything to pacify them.

So Now am still a teacher. Teaching kids and loving it.

French Engravings- Chapter One - Before the begining

It's been a while! And not because i didn't have things to write in fact lots has been happening. Happy things of course. Everytime I do something. Go somewhere, experience a new thing, I want to write about it. Maybe just because I want to freeze the moment. Moments rather. Or maybe just like all the pictures I keep taking all the time, I want to write about it. Besides haven't been able to capture thoughts in the pictures. I can just ramble, can't I?

Was thinking maybe I'll title the post French Impressions. But then it would have to be a super long post. Maybe I'll put it into parts. But French Impressions sounds too common. So settled on French Engravings. It has to be something deep doesn't it? Impressions are made on a surface, to engrave you need to change the surface.

Before coming to France, what did I think of the French? I hadn't met that many French people. And even those that I had met hadn't really interacted deeply with them. With the exception of David. And even he not really enough to form an impression of all French people. Oh yes I heard a lot. and like everyone forms their stereotypes I'd heard about the romance, the smooth talkers, the high fashion. I'd begun looking at non- Goans in Goa in a differnt light. Imagining that is how I would be in a different land. Would they call us 'Bloody Indians'?

And then they are a cold race. And my eternal worry of being a misfit. Of course that couldn't be helped- brown skinned, Indian, with very faulty language skills. Now think as much I can't really remember what my pre-France, French imaginings were. Of course the Eiffel tower. But then I knew I wouldn't be near Paris. The mountains- and all that loomed in my head were the far off mountains I saw in Kathmandu and Pokharan. The snow covered, sun bathed mountains.

People... about people... well I didn't really form an opinion. Luckily I had been in conversation with my landlady (to- be then) quite a bit through e-mail. She seemed extremely nice and I doubted even then that I would have problems with her. I was afraid of the teachers though. The ones with whom I would have to work. Mainly for the reason that I had absolutely no idea what was required of me. But I guess I was most apprehensive of the students. I had been a teacher for 2 and 1/2 years by then and I knew standing in front of a class of students was no easy feat. At least not for me! And French students! What should I expect?

And then I landed here. Well, yes impressions were begining to be formed right from Paris. At Gare de Lyon actually.

And then last Sunday I decided to go for a walk, since it was a rare sunlit day. Sunlight bouncing off every surface playing hide and seek with the shadows dispelling the seemingly endless cold. I walked, feeling happy i had stepped out. A million thoughts running through my head. I wanted to go to the quay, but as I neared the city there seemed to be a traffic jam. No problem for me, I was walking! But then I realised that there were cops diverting the traffic because there was a Sunday market. It's this market where they sell mostly second hand things- clothes, jewelery, books, all sorts of things. Even if you don't want to buy it's interesting to just look at all the stuff you can get there. I didn't have much money with me so just browsed throw, until I came to a book stall. I fell for them as usual. Bought two books, of course they weren't new, so they were really cheap. That's one of the things that's so great about these markets. Continued walking, thinking I won't buy anything more. Saw a really cool sword. Some nice colorful jewellery, glass beads with the sun streamin throgh them making pretty patterns. There was this carved furniture there, and some some delicate looking China here. i stayed away from this last coz i didn't know with me around what would drop and break. I'm not clumsy or careless, let me tell you, it's just that I get so taken if I am admiring something that I tend to forget to pay attention. Just that!

And then another book stall! No harm in just looking right? So looked at the books. So many i wanted to take. And then suddenly the stall owner picks up a thick biography of Garbo and hands it to me, 'C'est pou toi! Un cadeau!' (for my non- french understanding friends this means 'This is for you! A gift!')I was speechless. I thought now I must buy something from the guy. So looked hard, trying to make a choice. And then finally decided on one. I asked him how much he said that i could take whatever I wanted it was all a gift! I must have looked idiotic with that expression on my face. He laughed and kept saying, "C'est un cadeau!" I grabbed another book. Wanted to take so many, but.... the only 20kgs that are allowed on flight....damn! So I walked off with 3 free books. Happy as ever. I think i was smiling away to glory. Walked till the end of the market. It was too late to go to the quay. Anyways my bag was heavy with 5 books in it now. Let's go home.

My mind keeps going back to that moment when I picked up the third book, maybe I should have picked up more books! Yet i am so glad I got the ones I did. Books are something that i wanted to buy here. I will definately buy some more before I go. But... maybe I should have picked up the whole basket of books when he offered them to me. But 20kgs....

Was watching 'Finding Neverland'. Took a break coz i wanted to write. The movie, all the role play and make belief reminded me of my days when I was a child. We had this neighbour, we called her Nani Sophie, she was quite an elderly lady whom my grandmother used to call 'Auntie'. We wold go to her house to play and she would play with us, thinking up games and little plays. I remember once she made warrior suits for us out of jackfruit leaves. The whole outfit, with crowns and swords and all. I can't remember exactly how the play went, but I remember we waited like that in those outfits till my parents came home in the evening so that we could show them the costumes and how we looked in them. Then of course we played cooking cooking. Guess after playing cooking cooking so much i might have been quite a cook now, but no! Yet come to think of it even now if I do prepare something I try to make believ a scene where i am cooing for someone and have these conversations with myself. Funny me.

But then Finding Neverland made me think of the place where we all escape to when we are on our own. In the movie Parzania this little boy Parzan makes up his own little land Parzania. It's something like Thomas Moore's Utophia I guess. The perfect place, our dream land. J. M. Barrie says that little boys should not be made to sleep, because they wake up one day older. He is afriaid that Peter is trying to grow- up faster than he can. We all did that as kids, didn't we? We all wore Momi's outfits and shoes, pretended to be teachers or some shop- keeper, or doctor or some grown- up. Never realising that when we got to the stage when we would be working hard (or hardly) we would be yearning for those days of innocence, wishing we could be 10 years old again and never having bigger problems than escaping a pasting from Momi or a yelling at from Granny.

But then we all have that child in us. I never want that part of me to grow. When I see a child I want to see through her eyes. Like The Little Prince. He sees everything so clearly. The adult world looks so absurd. Working for things that don't matter, trying to drown out the sorrows that we create for ourself. Forgetting to have fun on the way, just coz we are always thinking what other people will say about us. That's one thing I like about being in France when i'm with my friends I can react to things however I want to. Don't care even if they call us 'bloody Indians' coz I know that I'll never meet them again.

Sometimes when am happy I actually skip and walk along coz i don't care if people think i'm crazy as long as i'm happy.

Lots of people speak about discovering the child in you. So i won't say all that. But then there are times when instead of dreaming about the past and yearning for the long lost days I guess all we should do is enjoy something, anything even if it is something we see or do everyday, enjoy it just for the sake of it in the simplest possible way. Sometimes I think being childlike is just being yourself and not taking things for granted. Being curious and apriciating things! And trying to be happy without asking for too much coz happiness is like jam, you can't spread it without getting a little onto yourself!

I feel like Johnny Depp in 'The Secret Window', he writes a line and then keeps staring at it and says 'bad writing, bad writing!' At least I have the consolation that i will not have to publish my stuff.

It's a rainy day. Been raining since last night. No, actually it's been dull and grey since Monday or was it Sunday? But then I say to myself that at least this is not cold rain that chills you to the bone. Hopefully sunny days are just around the corner. Brightens up things a bit. Can i not find a topic to write about? Anything happy that happened to me. My landlady's in the next room with her sister. There's a child with them- the sister's son. He must be about 2 and a half. A cute little fellow who keeps talking even if no one is listening to him. And he calls out to his mother all the time, 'Maman, Maman!' it doesn't even sound like that actually but a funny way. A really cute way. I have to go to school in a while. And still this dearth of writing topics. Why can i not think of something nice to write about. What day is it today?Thursday, 55 days for me to go home. It's always like that, when we begin a countdown time seems to pass by slower. And then we decide to enjoy things and like as if from nowhere there is a leak and time drains out. Stop!

Didn't think the sea would excite me all that much. But when i saw it from the top of the hill, lying there blue and glistening with the many little islands in it, all i wanted to do was run to it and feel it. I was standing at this cathedral which was magnificent and all I could think of was going down to the sea. And we did go. I think I practically fried Uma's brain with my urgency. We went to the dock. All the fishing boats, the gentle sound of water. And what do you think, it wasn't even cold- weather-wise. Damn I was jealous of these Marseilles- people!

Next day went on a boat trip. Sat on the deck of the boat, with the water spraying all over. The salty water! The boat rocking and then rudder plowing into the sea, creating deep liquid furrows. A kid began to cry- was afraid maybe. But the general atmosphere was one of excitement. I actually wanted to bend over and feel the water. We got to he Island- Isle Frioul, which was to be our destination. Spent more than 3 hours there. Doing nothing more than talking and wandering about. Watching waves break upon the rocks. Sea gulls hovering above. There were many people which suited me just fine. And Uma too. Only missed Gale. For the first time in France really basked in the sun. On the Meditarranean sea! And topped it up with a delightfully sinful Brownie- Glace- Chantilly. When I got back ashore I did feel a little sad. I would have loved to live there for a couple of days. Enjoying the sun (no sand there by the way), sea. Maybe going fishing one day. And then cook it in a bonfire for dinner. Only the sea sn't as rough with so many waves as Goa. It's a tame sea!

Have decided, no more sad blogs here. There is other space for that. Things that made me happy.

Today was an unexpectedly nice day. You just can't make any plans can you? I was supposed to clean up this mess of a room. But then got a call and Chateau de Vizille, here I come.

What sticks in my mind the most is Phillippe's smile when he saw me. That little face full of white teeth brightening up my day more than any ray of yellow light would do. And off we went in the car. One little face smiling shyly in the back. On the way lots of stories about the strike, and the economic crisis and it's damned effects. Yes why? What has he done to suffer from this blasted thing? Anyways, keeping this happy. And then what else did we talk about? Not too much of couse the kids were excited as usual. One of the reasons why i love kids. They demand attention. And save you from thinking what am I to say next.

The chateau wasn't a great massive thing. And to be honest it wasn't even the prettiest thing I ever saw. But then it was now converted into a museum. I went into the museum by myself coz the children wanted to play outside. I wandered looking about at the paintings and sculptures that had something to do with the French Revolution. Everytime i keep telling myself I have to read some more about this. And suddenly a room called Chambre de Psyche. Wondered then and am still wondering, where does Psyche feature in the French Revolution. Minerva yes yes, Goddess of Victory (I hope I'm right). But Psyche? She's no goddess, just the girl Cupid fell in love with. A curious girl who according to me personifies the saying, 'curiosity kills the cat' Though her it was worse she almost had to give up her love. But then....hey Alison, you are going away from the topic. This will resemble a 17th century novella if you don't stick to the topic. Yah how i hated that one we had to study. Ok

But whatever the Chambre de Psyche was pretty. Atleast something i had read about. I know about the French Revolution too. But when you are faced with a museum full of the stuff you feel at least slightly like an ignoramus. What else did I like? Of course the library with it's books stacked so high up that they had a really nice ladder to reach up and get those books that you were too short to reach. And yes the paintings. But then after 45mins of wandering along wooden floors that creaked I was getting a little bored.

Oh i must tell you that i came across this wall where they had put up pictures of the Presidents of France who had stayed at the Castle. There was Charles de Gaulle of course. Somewhere down the line mitterand, his face had been scratched. Defintely some one who didn't support him. And then after Chirac was M. Sarkozy. His face was almost completely scratched. They don't like him much do they? Anyways let's not get into politics!

After the Castle went onto the grounds. The kids skipping in front and we two adults following. until they decided to make a chain by holding hands. We had ust enough time to look at the deers in the park. She's promised to take me there another time. To see the whole grounds. The other animals. And of course i'd love to go.

Before we left I had gauffre chantilly. Chantilly's nothing to do with the wine, by the way. it's a whipped cream on Gauffre (waffles). Nice. I specially enojoyed seeing the children devouring it, with the cream getting all over their faces. They are the sweetest little things! The kids I mean.

Then time to get back. The brother and sister gott into a fight. The mother had to pull over the car to make peace. But then it happens allllll the time. Saw some ponies on the way. That made Camille squeal with absolute pure delight. And tehy sang loudly. Some english songs too. Akon to be sure. Finally reached my stop. Kissed goodbye. Phillippe, strapped to his seat couldn't reach out so shook hands like a gentleman. I love those kids. Just watching them jump and frolic with their unending energy, makes me want to stop feeling cold and jump with them. I'll do that maybe. When they hold my hand I 'll swing it a little more. And walk with a little spring in my step.

Now with this nice philosophy floating in my head I need to wake up tomorrrow and clean my room.

Waiting for Hypnos!

Am here to tell you about last night.
So, then after all the sledding and walking knee-deep in snow, I was exhausted. Believe it or not but by 10pm I was ready to hit the bed. But still, saying bye to friends online isn't a hurried job- especially when you are usually up till after midnight otherwise, with Neha reminding me to sleep sometimes. I think Gale did that too once, not that she ever sleeps before 2am! What do you do? Anyways, so finally crept into the bed just as it was getting around 11 pm. Waiting for sleep to blissfully take over. But this was one of those super irritating nights when all you want to do is sleep but when you are waiting for it to come on you it decides to play that highly insensitive game of playing hard to get, while you are in half a mind to get up and continue with doing something interesting- for eg surfing the net. But yet your limbs refuse to oblige and you wait there praying to Hypnos while shifting in bed looking for the most comfortable position.

Suddeny, i'm awake. 6am already? Oh damn, why can there not be even a little light in the sky? But morning already? Hey i'm in the same postion that I was in when I fell asleep, at least the last I can remember before sleep mercifully descended. Is that my landlady awake? What is she doing? Awake before me? I can hear a cat. And she's calling the cat, "Paille". It must be morning. Now I dare not fall asleep. The alarm will go off any moment. What's on the roof? Paille (my landlady's cat) Why is he here? Why can he not jump on the roof of her bedroom? Should I open the door and let him in? And that incessant meowing. After what seems like ages but must have actually been not more than 3mins, she opened the door for the cat!

I'm lying awake, why is the alarm not ringing? I'm sure it is 6am. Let me see. I unlock my cell. What amazing relief! It's only 1:06am. Yippee! I can sleep peacefully! And i drift away.

Wide awake! Why is this happening, not again. I have to sleep, i have a whole day of work tomorrow. I image the dark circles growing under my eyes. Sleep, why are you so elusive? It's only natural to sleep, don't act so pricey. Just come and drown me in your portion. Maybe tomorrow I wont call on you so early. But let go now, just wave those poopies over my eyes and let me relax in your realm.

And somehow throughout the night I drift in and out of the long tunnels of sleep. Wake up in the morning as soon as the first note of the alarm hits. Hoping that my energetic jump will help me through the day.

Throught the 3 continuous lectures, drift between the conscious and sub- conscious. I've had moments where i've blanked out.

And now before I go for my next and luckily last lecture for the day, I'm downing, now this my third mug of coffee. Hoping it will as always help me get through. All I have to survive is one more class.

Was up at 10am this morning, wondering what to do. Maybe i should just laze a while longer. Anyways i have nothing to do. But then one of my collegues from the Lycee called. She said she was going sledding with her kids and asked whether i wanted to join her. Ofcourse! What the hell's sledding? Yes i will be there. Bus timings, plan to meet outside the Musee... Ok done! While having coffee, type in sledding in Google. I have to know atleast something about it right?

Turned out to be an awesome experiance. As most of the new things i've done and tried out here. The main thing about sledding is that you have to take the sledge to the top of a slope sit in it and slide to the bottom. Now what got my hairs standing, wasn't the knee-deep snow but the fact that i had a phobia of slidding. And also acrophobia! Not in it's greatest degree, but quite a bit to make me dizzy when i looked down a slope. But then she was asking her kids to help me, and i couldn't be a coward in front of an 8year old and a 10year old. That is inimaginable! So bravely i went up, taking advice from serious 8 year old Phillippe! The only word i caught on was 'freiner' (for my ignorant non- French speakin friends that means to apply brakes). Ok so i knew how to stop myself...in case....

I took it on bravely! And voila, i enoyed it. Where were you acrophobia? and that slide-o-phobia? I won't go about saying how exhilirating...blah...blah...blah. I thoroughly enjoyed it! And now am ready to take on the world! Para-gliding anyone? Or maybe we could go bungee-jumping. Jump out of a helicopter maybe! Whay say?

I was walking in knee high snow, and actually sweating. What an effort, I tell you! The snow, sparkling in the brilliant sunshine, trees standing out with their bare branches white with melting frost! Snow sings, you know. Not exactly musical, but a nice sound! Happy children running about, sliding around and of course falling all over the place. Adults acting like kids trying to prtended like adults, but then giving it up, coz it hampers the good feeling.

I gave up sledding for the idea of building an igloo with Phillippe. He seemed to be in a bad mood- don't ask why...isn't it universal for a kid of that age, especially with a bossy big sister, to be perpetually-in-between-mood-swings! I was afraid at first that he might just throw some snow-balls at me to get rid of me. But luckily he took to me and began unfolding his blue-prints for the construction of the igloo. Mona, his sister got interested and began supplying us with the raw material- big chunks of snow transported on the sledge.

After we had built the igloo half way, we decided to take a few pictures with a snow man! Had to repair him a bit. But gat a happy picture, though till now i don't know which side the snowman was looking. By the time we got back to the igloo, we discovered a little brat in the process of destroying it. Happens all the time...if you can't be a creator, be a destroyer. But here the little villan got a earful. And he seemed pretty upset. Hopefully he descides to be more constructive the next time.

And then the sun dipped over the mountains and the cold ruthlessly set it. Time to leave!

So acted like a total kid. Finished the week on a really happy note! And am thinking once again, France is not bad! Oh no class tomorrow! Have to be up at 6am :(

But still...after the nice weekend, i'm ready to take on the world- and the cold..burrrrrrrrr! Can we go sking next time???

Uma's been after me to put up new posts. And i've been putting it off saying i lack the inspiration. And now just feel like writing when i don't have any specific thing to write about. Thoughts floating. But coming out in a garbled fashion. I can't make sense of them. Do all writers write about their feelings. Is every story a reflection of the author? What about a poem? Definately an emotion expressed. An emotion? It's more a rosary of emotions. Paintings and sculptures. Expressions of feelings and emotions. Love and hate. And regret and anger. Madness even. Even nursery rhymes have meanings. They are filled with emotions and thoughts. They are meant to evoke an emotion. When i went to the Louvre i was lost. I was lost in the swirling of centuries of feelings. Every room, every atom in the museum was filled with a passion. An overflow of love or wonder, grief or maybe just happiness. Every object had a story, and i wanted to listen. I felt foolish in my poor dress of ignorance, while surrounded with so much knowledge and feeling. The same thing happens to me when i go to a library. I love libraries. The smell of books. The dust that covers the books. The yellowing pages, the clausterphobic print. What was the author thinking? Where was he? Why was he thinking like this? What was happening in his life. I drink like a cracked drought sticken plain. The delicious petrichor fills me with a thirst. Each page comes alive with the letters and words, dancing a funnily farmiliar- yet- so- different- from -what- i've- ever- known- before dance. It takes my mind and lets it play on a playground, so insanely strange yet safe. Without boundaries of norm and society. It allows something to be born. Yet is this what he wanted? What was he thinking? Did the author want me to think this way? Hey man, yes you there! What were you thinking when you left open this window into your thoughts? Why did you want me to read about your love? Even if you say this is fiction there is something about you in there, right? Or else you would never have written it? What do i make of you? Do you expect me to understand you? Are you afraid of being mis- understood? Definately there is a motive. Why lay your feelings clothed with the translucent silk of the make- belief? You want to be understood. Or there is simply no purpose. Have you ever been wanting to say something but are not sure whether he would understand. Speak they say. Why are you quiet? Am i boring you? Why don't you tell me what you feel? But then feeling is one thing isn't it? Saying it is another. Maybe the time isn't right. And you know what i wait for isn't it? The right word. Are you always happy, dear writer with what you write. Is that exactly the word that came to you mind? How much paper did you waste in drafts? I bet so many times you have wondered, what if he gets to read this? He will definately know what i mean. Oh no i can't allow him to know my feelings. It would throw away my coloured garb. Make me look plain and expose me the way i am. But the they jump at me. They make me want to wriggle my way through the dense tunnels they have made. They eat into me. I want to know what they mean. i want to know the thoughts. And i want to solve the words that are hidding within the high constructions. I need to find it out. The real thought, the real meaning. The feelings that are not made known, you want them to be known, don't you? If not i wouldn't find you here, in the library crowded between the other books. What about feelings untold? What about those words awaiting the magic keys of understanding. Dear writer, painter of my imagination, tailor of my thoughts, lead me through the anguish of my restless mind, let me see in your creation a way that leads to the depth of your unfollowed path.

What do you do when you want to write and it just doesn't happen? Somehow this never seemed the problem before. Maybe this is coz now i'm writing a blog the chances of someone reading it and not liking it are great. As usual asking myself what if it is mis-understood. Somehow that is always my biggest worry. Not just blogs, but always. What if i say the wrong thing and they don't understand? Did he feel bad that i said this? Now what will she think? Will he hate me for this? Have i hurt him? And then i am thinking, these are my thoughts thoughts that are subjective. Conditioned by the things that i have gone through and what i have felt. Why should it affect another. And then maybe, let me leave it to destiny! lol. Is it an easy way to find the solution to things? It's destiny! Or is there something really like that? I believe there is. Life has gone through so much. Shuffling through the pages of the last year, i've come to believe more and more in this. That things happen for a reason. Sometimes it's so damn covet that we are lost looking for answers. It's so difficult to leave and say if it's to be it will be. Is patience really the virtue of the wise? I said that to someone, right? Then maybe i'm not wise, coz i have to remind my self to be patient and i have moments of perplexed restlessness.

My first post for this year. I should mak it worth the while right? But i can't say that much has changed since december 2008 to January 2009. You can't expect someone to change overnight- that too 31st December night. I don't really want to speculate about the last year. Of course it has been a happening year. Happening is an understatement. And now i sit here, surrounded with bits and pieces of the stuff i've been doing and even plans for what i'm going to do. As usual things pending and yelling for attention. but am i ignoring it? Or maybe just the usual procrastinating Alison. Is that my strongest quality? Oh no, please no! Yet that seems to define me more than anything else. Even writing. I seem to push away the very thing that gave me most pleasure. And now all of a sudden an urge to write. And it turns out to be another bit of nonsense. Am i really not thinking in a straight line? Why not? Is it coz of the songs i heard? The scenes i watched? Why are you doing this to yourself? But then it's the heart that is to be blamed. No, am not feeling low, in fact the sun is out and shinning brightly over the glistening snow. what the hell am i doing indoors? I should have stepped out and taken a walk. But i'll do that later anyways. The heart. How do i know what it is saying is true? Sometimes you speak so softly that i just can't hear. Or even if i hear i think maybe i miss understood. Is it that what you want me to do? what is it you want to do Alison? And then that ridiculously eternal battle of the heart and mind. Logic and emotion. Reason and impulse. But then aren't adults supposed to be more reasonable? Longing for things. Yet looking forward and expecting. longing and expectations. Enemies of mine. why do things just not seem to work sometimes? Not asking for too much. Don't expect to get much. Heart, can you tell me what i want to do? She opens her eyes and sees the sun dancing. It gets warm doesn't it. But then some greedy thought hopes for a warmer place. Why why why, do we expect people to make us happy? Hoping that maybe, at least, or just somehow it will happen. But then i told you didn't i. it is not to be. But how can it be? What's the meaning of hope then? Yet, Heart says, that is what is to heal. And somehow in each moment, however much the battle rages, there is always that space which spells out the only thing i'm ever looking for. Somehow i know it will never go away. And no matter what in the war the only thing that triumphs is the heart. Even if it is sad, it always does what is right.