Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Another poem of grief I love very much besides "Do not stand at my grave and weep". I first heard it from Ann, my college roomate, a quite sensitive and sweet girl. I then came across it in the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral", though I didn't know how to appreciate this movie. I recalled it tonight, mainly because this kind of feeling the earthquake just happened today on our land brought to me, the one that I have never imagined to have taken away so many precious lives.

No matter how we are connected -- as family, relatives, friends, lovers, competitors, adversoris, or so loosely related that we only konw each other on a say-hi basis -- we are still connected, "till death separates us". Despite all the six-sense bodement, the mysterious environmental sign, or the long illness, most people lose the life of their own or the life of others unconsciously. Just a flash of imagining that during my sleep, I, or any of the people that I care about, was sent to another world where sun rises and sets in the different way from our beloved earth, I feel like falling down an endless abyss. How desperate are we for having an accompany! No matter how they exist in this world, it is "in this world" that is the bottom line.

That is why people set up graves for those they wish to remember and read grief poems to them. That is why people call each other to make sure that they are surving the disasters. That is why people forget about their obsessions and burden for a while, look afar, just to miss those in their heart.

During occasions of mishap, who is the one that has come into your mind first? Who is the one that you would crawl all the way to be together with? And who is the one that you wish to be alive even in exchange of your own life?

The last post sent by word 2007 is a failure, for it didn't send out the pic as supposed to.

But all of a sudden, I found a draft email in my 126 box, very old. I must have met some trouble when sending out this letter at that time. Anyhow, it is right the narration I have been missing for a while. By reading this little thing I wrote in a writing class and recalling what happened as it records, I feel something like a slice of breeze blowing through my heart. It is like this:

"It was in deep autumn. We climbed up the hill with no difficulties, as we walked on the main road. However, we decided to take a totally new route that no one had discovered when we got back. Sweet thing happened when we stopped by a big tree. Resting by the root of it, we lay on the slide. Fallen leaves were so soft that I guessed I was lying on my bed. Opening my eyes, I saw picture of wonder: the diamond-blue sky was ornamented with slices of cloud; branches of pines were stretching, looming down on us with silence, when, a wind passed by, whispering with the hill. No birds were singing but we heard some barks from faraway. The valley belonged to us. I almost fell asleep, with the flavor of the sunshine and the breath of the approaching winter."

I know there are expressions that can be improved, and words that can be polished, but I just don't want to. Not the quarrels, not the misunderstanding, not the pain, this is the thing that I want to reserve and treasure in the box of my memory.

好像和writer差不多啊，只是没有看到space背景，不过可以选择类别。

发张Rinoa的照片。稀饭~~