“Morning on Shybyndykol” Image courtesy and copyright Аntonina

Rangi Raua Ko Papa

She called, the other night. I said that I’d like to … relocate. Everybody does, either eleven thousand kilometres away, or six feet below soles.

I would seriously consider Osaka, Wakatipu or Manapouri but there I would have to subscribe to Intelsat, Thuraya or Globalstar just so the world if it decides to communicate, can.

To perceive other than that, a different perspective, a different angle.

One can’t always be fishing in the same pond in Senibong Johor, or Selenga* somewhere in Central Asia, or elsewhere and the fishes must be thinking too “O I recognise that bait, that net, that hook”.

“Parisian Grace” Image courtesy and copyright Trey Ratcliff

Paris seems like a distant dream. I can still see the laughter, but the voices are hushed.

Many organisations like to promise, many people are loose with words, and rarely take to honouring them — You recognise these, if they aren’t whores, know not much better. You just let them be. They can’t change. You don’t want them to either but just to honour their words seem such a tedious affair.

Or they’ve lost their spark, their inner inner … the spirit, the life that wet eyes and hearts, and humble knees.

Les formulations peuvent changer mais elles désignent toujours la même réalité

To change the idiom, but I rarely speak.

It’s really tedious to buildup the energy to think and speak at the same time. How have you adapted to such proficiency? You must be fair to yourself even if the imageries show you stories that doesn’t mean a thing to you at that precise juncture.

Sometimes, it shows the past that you have forgotten dressed as a different era yet the whole message just happened to have been reenacted, re-written, spoken off, projected within a span of a yoctosecond, and its still a message that keeps repeating as if to command you, to remember, to recollect, to read, like the blinking light coming from the lighthouse, during that dreary night dazed with fog, that evening drizzle reeking with ash toasted chestnuts and cheap vodka.

A different imagery but the same message, a dissimilar perspective but disjunctive yet speaks of only one … all flames are similar irrespective their colours; all loves the same irrespective the degrees.

All, irrespective

No matter how much bowing a king does, the station belongs not to a slave — it is in the submission of the slave that it serves with obeisance; and the humility of the king that it recognises its state and serves with love

Love. It is there, or it is not there.

You can’t fake these — it shows in the eyes, in the trembling hands, in the quivering voices, in the warm tears overflowing at the bow.


1/. Selenga* — several areas in the CIS is high yielding and productive for aquaculture but pilots need to be implemented since the continental drift can be harsh, post climatic fluctuations. Fish fauna may include zooplankton, crayfish & molluscs, and peaks during Summer, whilst flora, nutraceutical groves. The Humanitarian Foundation I’m attached to and breathing hard work, with its World Food Program needs to be implemented in Vietnam, and parts of the CIS, to balance the world’s nutritional deficit.

2/. Intelsat

3/. Tourism جوهر بهرو {Johor Bahru, Malaysia}

Imagery …

“Morning on Shybyndykol” Image courtesy and copyright Аntonina
“Parisian Grace” Image courtesy and copyright Trey Ratcliff

About these ads

2 thoughts on “Rangi Raua Ko Papa

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s