At the moment when those particular type of events transpire, they seem of little consequence, hardly scratching the surface membrane of one's mind, fleeting, like the deadly silence before a storm, or the deafening white noise where you know you are supposed to be able to hear, and yet you hear nothing, feel nothing.
But rest assured that such events do drill holes inside of you, little bottomless pits, deeply embedded, and that they become ever more entangled with your very existence, foreshadowing.
Once in a while, dark, grotesque creatures crawl out from those pits, ensnarling, casting a shadow over things, pricking your soft spot with their claws of pain and venom. These incidents may be borne entirely on their own, leading to nowhere and nothing, or they may be triggered by the smallest knickknack, a handmade artifact, a remnant. The little hands that wrote the childish characters and drew the bunny head have long become ashes, scattered about this universe that is supposed to be one. So that every time I breathe, I breathe you; every step I take, my shoes are cushioned by the very earth of which you are part of:
好好學習
天天向上
Yes. All of a sudden, I see it. I am meant to draw strength, and hope, and to see a path aglow from these eight simple characters written with earnest by your youthful hands. It almost feels like your presence is still here, right where I most long to be.
