What inspired this photographer, the sight of the lighted bridge in the darkness, with a photo attached…translated… The Steel, Unsettled Now In-Between the Shores Weaving in & Out with the Predictions of Luck & Accents Confirming Reality & Lies, Black & White To the Very End It’s All a, Dream A Mirage Remember What You See as Being Real in This Very Moment, that’s, What’s, Most Important
the photograph taken by the writer, that;’s inspired this passage, courtesy of UDN.com
We often got lost in the flash and the thrills of things we are pursuing, that we neglected to know, that all that glitter is not gold (not even fool’s gold???), and we still, keep on, pursuing all of these, unimportant things in our lives, and in the end, what do we end up with? Absolutely, NOTHING, and it would then be, too late, because we’d, run out of, time, with those regrets, piling up, sky high in our, lives…
The fate of a woman to, sit, work, and wait, and pray for her man’s, safe passage, home from work on the, seas…translated… Before the serene and quieted window, the mending of the fishing nets, spread out like a tapestry. The female fisher with the conical bamboo hat, with the seeping in of the dawn’s morning light, sat on her days. The needles and threads became a part of her, skillfully, she’d, weaved in and out, to mend the holes, and added the sensibilities into every single, stitch. I’d thought that the sunlight would be enough, but she’d, hung on that hanging light. But, from the way she’d turned her head toward the windows often, it seemed, that the hanging light was to make the ocean inside brighter, instead of chasing away the darkness from the outside. Whether if she’s carrying the fierce ocean waves, or the thoughts of keeping that lighthouse for the returns, she’s doing all this, for the sake of safe passage of her, lover.
the photo, taken by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com
Surely, day after day, she’d, stitched time away. Because of her long-term using the needles and threads, the wounds had been, imprinted into her palms, it’d become, her new, palm print then, and she’d never called out from the pains from the needle pricks! This brand new etched in palm print, is it not, an alternative, fishing net of, destiny, too? So, this is on how our lives may be set already, but, we just need to, work hard in our lives, to make sure that everyone we love is, taken care off, and that, is more than, enough, for the life of an, ordinary, woman…
On the need for diversity, the need to, get rid of the ignorance, the stereotypes, the preconceived notions we may have, deeply rooted inside, so we can, see something that’s, out of the, ordinary every day…translated…
The summer afternoon, the rain that suddenly came pouring down, surely, it wasn’t, just a, light, drizzle.
I’d, ducked for cover in the exit of the under passage, waited for the rain to, cease, up.
And, unexpectedly, when I’d turned my head, people are, coming out, one by one, from the underground passage, following the staircase that resembled that of the music staff, popping their umbrellas open, then, spreading, outward, like the andante movement of a symphony.
the photograph taken by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com
But, what was on their minds, before they turned, toward the, brightly lit up exit? What are they, dreaming, about? What are they, gazing, toward? How were they, feeling?
They are all, philosophers in life. While I, was, once like that, wasn’t, I?
Every step counts.
Every discovery, are the raindrops, also, the musical notes. Life, because of the various notes, that’s why the symphony sounded, so, melodious.
So, this is on how we need to embrace our differences from each other, to respect one another for it, because, it is, the DIVERSITY in this world, that made this world’s encounters, ever the more, interesting.
How your work, makes you STUCK, in the vicious cycle of pursuing those who are late, and those who are late became, passive, and they only start to run, when you start, chasing after, them…translated…
Although, it’s, not exactly identical to what we’d, imagined, but some moments at the editors’ stations (especially when the work is in its final stages of review before sending to print), I’d always recalled the impressions I got from the animated movies, like a possession, I’d become, the gun, chasing the beasts in the, forests, in that game of matching wits, or, just, hidden myself behind the rocks, waiting, on. And, I also felt a bit like the spy in the shots with bad lighting, engaging in the sporadic conversations with my enemies, or the undercover agents. Being in that moment of “chasing after something” as an editor.
“Let me chase it a bit longer,” it may have a close meaning here at the editor’s station, but, there’s the forced sense of, “pressing hard” for something.
There’s also, that more positive meaning, paying attention to someone we’re attracted to, like we’re, competing with an adversary, chasing after—the works and authors who interests us, if there’s the opportunity to meet and greet, or to receive a call, to feel the connections exchanging, knowing the work, imagining, and planning, no problems communicating, then, the publishing or invitation to write, is about to happen.
To the editors, the most frequent times we’d used the term, “in pursuit”, maybe, it’s not just to get the copyrights of others’ written work, art, or for the nitty-gritty of the paperwork. More of the times, it’s not about pressing for the progress, chasing after everyone we’re working with, every unit we are working with, more of the times, we’re, chasing our, selves. On the matter of “the workable times”, it would, take a lot of communications going to and from, or to handle the sudden coming on of things, to reconfirm. And, moreover, there’s what the editors themselves (with nobody else’s assisting us—as you are, the only driftwood that will save the writer’s from drowning), managed to, produce—and, what someone else may pursue you, for—on editing: the cover page, the promo printing, the summary of the new books, the appendices, or the table of contents, the revised copies……….
and this, is how you get stuck, as the, editor-in-chief…illustration from online
Comparing, it’s much simpler to chase after a late draft. Mostly, we get it. For the senior, experienced editors in chief, they knew that the ultimate goal was to get the work in hand, quality or revision, that can come later, but, they’d also, made sure, not to, add more stress to the individuals they’re trying to get the work turned in, or, to put in too much of one’s own positive energies. An emoticon or a smiley face in the private text messages, no words, a picture that may not have any meanings at all, it could get us to the end goal. And, some who work in our industry can uses the diversion, for instance, when contacting the writers, they don’t talk about the work directly, and the more the editor are pressed, the more relaxed their conversations with the writers are, showing that genuine care and concern for the writers’ life outside of their work, or sharing something interesting they’d found of late, this works from time to time—but to watch out for the timing, otherwise, it would, backfire.
And, as editors, we also get chased by the writers as well, for instance, the authors or translators we’d signed on, they’d called on us, after all, it is only through the editors, would they know how far along their work with us had progressed, how the sales had been matched or if it, hadn’t; another one was the writers who’d submitted their works, and we’d not received a response back.
I’m always weak in this, and it’d become, next to impossible for me to, inquire (and, because of the differences in expectations, I would always be using, an awful tone of voice in the calls), and, just because I’d used most of my energies in pursuit of my writers’ progresses, and still lacked the explanations for: why are you pressing me so hard? What’s the priority? Are there the reasons that can get the attention of those I’m pressing? Besides, delay is delay, and I DESERVED to get grilled. But these are, precious, reminders, to allow me to learn to, empathize—that there is usually something that they can’t tell me, for being late, it may not be lazy, or planned, that we all have other roles we play in the world, that just sometimes, get in the, way.
here’s, what a lot of your writers are, overlooking…photo from online
But, I truly, hope, that although chasing and being chased, it may not be consensual, but, is it possible, to at least, enjoy the process, to find that common ground, to NOT cause the interactions to get sour? After all, this sort of an interaction style had been in our means of interacting with one another for a while now, and, isn’t there, the sort of I expect you to chase after me for it, and you owe me a draft, that sort of an entanglement of the, relationships?
And so, this is how easy it is, to fall into, that vicious cycle, and it all started, with the deadline, coming towards you, and you feel pressed, so you would, go AFTER your writers, to press them to turn in the work, and, your writers became, passive, in that they only start working hard, when they get that call from you, and, there’s, NO way for you to get out of this, vicious cycle, because that, is what your job, entailed, time is pressing, the drafts needed to get turned in for you to edit them, to get it back to your writers to revise, submitting and resubmitting.
There’s a picture of a beautiful, red, feather-like flower that comes with this one, translated…
In the Cracks of This Intertwining Concrete World
A Small Flower is Blooming, Quite Radiantly
No Matter How Many Cars Sped by Its Side
Regardless of How Many People Walked Right Past It
Nor is it, Afraid of the Dusts that Fell from the Skies
It’d Still, Managed, to Keep Itself, in Full Bloom
Showing Off its Radiant Colors as Well as Its Beauty
Blooming, Smiling, Encouraging All the Little Flowers Close by to Do the Same:
Just Bloom! Do Your Best, to Shine Through!
After You’d Bloomed, You Had Lived, Grown, and Left a Mark of Being Here
Been Beautiful Once, and, Survived, Through the Hardships
And so, this, is the strength of life, and, from this little flower, you can see, how it bloomed, so radiantly, although it knew, that it’ll wither and die one day, that still didn’t stop it, from embracing life to the fullest extent, and, IF a small flower can manage that, then, shouldn’t we people, at least, TRY to do the same??? A good lesson, taught, by a beautiful flower indeed!
Imagine this, a man, taking the hands of a child, as they walked across the waters on the beachfront, translated…
I don’t have any great sounding lies of the future
To help you cope
But, NO matter how hard it gets
I will walk alongside you
Giving support to one you love, showing her/him that you will always be her/his strong and stable support, and that, is what being a good parent is all about.
This, is a photograph of a native, waiting at the train station, translated…
Without you, how will I be
Able to Carry the Heaviness of the Years
And so, this is someone, waiting at the station, a child, or a spouse, perhaps, to return? But, will the person really come back? Nobody knows, and, the person can only hope and wait, without knowing whether or not her/his wait at the end will be worth it or not.
Mirroring the World 
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