Lived here for more than a decade. Still going back and looking through all the dust of my memories. Memories about him, about the time I was losing him, about the sad feelings every time I looked at him and knew I would be leaving, losing contact, never could come back. Holding his head when he was asleep, knowing there would be no chance to hold him any more....How I could hold my decision to come to North America? How strong at that time? or maybe just numbed. Love, finally lost in my own hand. I had touched it, but lost it.

who cares then?

Good thing about the blog is that you let everyone read it, and nobody really read it. I had a habit to write my own diary, but always worry somebody else reading my diary. Blog makes a strange sense, you let everybody read it, but you know nobody cares. or even nobody never visit here. so you have a space to vent, to cry, to think, to be silent.