Sunday, May 20, 2012


I am living in boxes, from one three-point-five-times-three-point-five-meter-box to another four-point-five-times-three-point-six-box. I am living in boxes, twenty-four hours seven days. I am living in boxes, like a hamster.

One turns to thirty and turns back to one, I am still here in my boxes, moving from one to another and coming back again. Just like one turns to thirty and turns back to one. Just like hamster who live in a box.

I am a hamster. The only difference is that hamster is bought and moved into the box, while I choose to move into my boxes.

Sometimes I wonder, why didn't I choose to be an eagle, that flies free above the sky and get the freedom to conquer the continents. Why did I choose to be a hamster? Why?

Do I like my boxes so much till I don't have guts to choose to be an eagle? Is this life a good one to live? Is there any invisible string that ties me to my boxes?

I keep asking.

I keep asking.

I keep asking.

None answers me.
And none transforms me.

I am still a hamster, living in my boxes. I run on my static wheel in the morning, I sleep among the shit at night. I am a hamster.

I am a hamster, longing to be an eagle.

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