Part 2

Her once colorful and lively room now looked dull and silent. The pictures that decorated her walls were now neatly packed with her books. The posters that hung on her wall now stood against the wall, stacked between her boxes of belongings and the cold sterile wall.

One last look around and she saw her past year stored away into another chapter’s ending. The last dance, the last movie, the last get together, all written out into another segment of her life. Though there would always be movies being shown, dance clubs serving drinks and music, restaurants serving food to chatty customers, a wave of bittersweet melancholy swept upon Connie and she felt herself choke up. Even though she would be starting a wonderful opportunity elsewhere, the idea of uprooting herself from the comfortable nest she had created was rather unbearable. The friends she had made and the experiences she had gone through all made leaving difficult.

"The Wild Strawberry"

A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above.
Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. One the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it
tasted!

*nostalgic smile*

vespa rides are awesome..
salsa's awesome..
meeting new people and listening to their stories is awesome..
green tea with boba is awesome......

=)

Things to Do in LA

~ kayaking
~ beach (SD?)
~ brazillian bbq
~ take more pictures!
~ sort through my things and figure out what to take and what to leave behind
~ uhhh....suggestions?

Stolen words.. but interesting. From "Immortality"

Path: a strip of ground over which one walks. A highway differs from a path not only because it is solely intended for vehicles, but also because it is merely a line that connects one point with another. A highway has no meaning in itself; its meaning derives entirely from the two points that it connects. A path is a tribute to space. Every stretch of path has meaning in itself and invites us to stop. A highway is the triumphant devaluation of space, which thanks to it has been reduced to a mere obstacle to human movement and a waste of time.

Before paths disappeared from the landscape, they had disappeared from the human soul: man stopped wanting to walk, to walk on his own feet and to enjoy it. What’s more, he no longer saw his own life as a path, but as a highway: a line that led from one point to another, from the rank of captain to the rank of general, from the role of wife to the role of widow. Time became a mere obstacle to life, an obstacle that had to be overcome by ever greater speed.

Path and highway; these are also two different conceptions of beauty. When Paul says that at a particular place the landscape is beautiful, that means: if you stopped the car at that place, you might see a beautiful fifteenth-century castle surrounded by a park; or a lake reaching far into the distance, with swans floating on its brilliant surface.

In the world of highways, a beautiful landscape means: an island of beauty connected by a long line with other islands of beauty.

In the world of paths, beauty is continuous and constantly changing; it tells us at every step: “Stop!”

The world of paths was the world of fathers. The world of highways was the world of husbands. And Agnès’s story closes like a circle: from the world of paths to that of highways, and now back again. For Agnès is moving to Switzerland. That decision has already been made, and this is the reason that throughout the last two weeks she has been feeling so continuously and madly happy.

Pg. 229-230