Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.
- Act 3, Scene 2 from William Shakespeare's The Tempest

Right now I'm listening to Breakaway along with the Palawan pictures. It's what's supposed to be what I tried to do on a post down below. I love associating songs with a sequence of pictures.

Sort of inducing a mental MTV and call it a magnificent work of personal art. Me the only audience.

Yeah, I have facilities like that in my mind, and much more.

Because ... there's so much out there you know? That special angle of view that says, "Damn, I could live with this all my life" or "This ... I was born just to see this".

It is some form of a euphoric, uplifting feeling. Did ja get?

It's like it has become important that I could still remember the number of clouds in the sky. Or the color of the sunset when it touches my skin. There's this utter silence I must absorb and come in terms with the myriad mysteries that only really needed to be said or spoken but never answered.

If it gets answered, then it's not pretty anymore. It's known, mediocre, like a forgettable jut on a building piece ornament. It makes the picture better, but you'll only notice it if it's not there.

So what am saying here?

Absolute nonsense. These are zen thoughts. It's supposed to be like shouts to nothingness. Sort of like something as insipid as the line "The individual is everything. Everything is the individual". Yet if find yourself drinking those lines, then it means you've come to the next level of existence.

Which I believe where I'm at right now. Probably because I have an idle mind. *Tee hee*

Okay, now back to work. I just got reprimanded, LOL