Once a brave old man told me that keeping diaries is not something for everyone. I’ve been keeping diaries not just to prove my existence, but also to remind myself that I’mhuman being, after all. That I am part of some misterious “stream of consciousness” which keeps me alive. Now that old man is notthing more than ashes. But it’s his memory whom allows him to be alive. To my grandfaher,

“May the wind aways be at your back and the sun upon your face. And may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars.” -Blow.


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