I don’t know what to do with myself, I don’t have anymore fireflies to catch
I don’t know what to do with my life, I have lost my light a few years back
I don’t know what to do with myself, I don’t have anymore fireflies to catch
I don’t know what to do with my life, I have lost my light a few years back
I want a God who knows how to sing
I want a God who knows how to play violin
October 1982, a child was born. Although he is a boy, his parents named him Hana, means “Flower” in Japanese, “Happiness” in Arabic, “The Favorite of God” in Hebrew. He grew up with one sister and one brother. The boy had a big curiosity over many things, he touched anything he saw, did some dangerous things which sometimes made him got injured.
The boy was two years old, he grabbed a flaming firework and burnt his hand.
That boy is me. I can’t really remember anything in my life, not until I was three and a half years old. My parents was fighting with each other. I saw plates and spoon and glasses flying around the house when I was crawling to the living room, it was when my father left the house followed by my mother, a big drawer fell down on me, but I was saved by my sister, she covered me with her body. I was fine, but she got severely injured.
I can imagine, if my sister didn’t saved me and I died that day, my first memory in my life is my own death.
I never had this strange feeling since the last several years. The world seems to be very complicated and I don’t have anything to hold on. Did Friedriech Nietzsche, Jean Paul Sartre or Karen Armstrong ever had this same feeling? I wonder how they overcame it. Sometimes it feels like an original Greece Tragedy. Hear someone shouts very hard in an uncontrollable anger and a boy desperately cries at the same time. They wake me up at night and drive me mad!