"In the end, we'll all become stories."
- Margaret Atwood (Moral Disorder & Other Stories, 2006)
To whom I haven't met,
Here I am again after four weeks of traveling across Peninsula Malaysia & France. Hopefully I manage to say a lot to you this time.Anyway, after reading all my 493 letters, I believed that you will understand I value my personal space & being touch-me-not especially when it comes to strangers in a strange places.
While I was at Paris in France, yours truly here encountered unpleasant moment standing in a bus packed like sardines. In the bus, I saw a lot of horny guys would try & take advantage of the tight squeeze to lean over the girls. Surprisingly, the girls seems undisturbed by this situation even though the horny guys is touching their butts & boobs. I guess this is the reason why people said Parisian are often described as an incredibly affectionate people.
When I reached the hotel in Paris-Vendome, I was taken aback when the bellboy hold my hand as we walking towards my room. He even got me on tour inside the hotel with both of us still holding hands. I almost felt like a child again (or boy toy to a hulking man).
Few hours later, I went to Arc de Triomphe at Champs Elysee. A young lady hugged & kissed me on my cheek when I picked up her gloves on the tarmac. She also gave me some appreciative pat on the back as she smiled.
Dear you, certain display of affection that I encountered there do raise eyebrows. For the most part though, I find it sweet when two strangers warmly hugged & grasp each other hands. The way I see it, where language become a barrier, hug can become communicate volumes.
One day, you will join me in traveling across the world. Live your life at the moment my hummingbird.
Perhaps, I write for no one. But it is better than none, I guess. I may not be able to alter reality but I can alter the hope & optimism. For that, I will exist in two places, here & where you are.
For the other half of the sky,
The Half Moon Serenades.
1st of December 2016.