a dream in a bubble

We live in a subjective world. Our little bubble--full of people, likes, memories, change, dreams--is one in a million. What we see determines what we believe. What we learn predicts the outcome of our future. Who we know shapes our hearts forever. But this planet is only so big. There may be another you, someone so alike it forces you to question yourself. How do we stand out? What can we do to be special? These questions haunt us at times, like wisps of clouds obscuring other thoughts. But there is only one you. With every step you take, your bubble absorbs unique experiences that inevitably forms your individuality. You are you. No questions asked.

a dream with a problem

You're repeatedly told that people have worse problems. Things could be worse, be happy with what you have, all the banal phrases come and go. But we're all selfish in one sort of way. How can we always be privy to other people's thoughts and problems when we're busy with our own? When even your dreams are infected with this disease-ridden problem, that's when you should start to worry.

a dream in the unknown

It's happening again. The Circle. The whispered conversations. The Voices. The Tears. The Looks. The hesitant questions, probing for answers. Answers to comfort, answers to calm. The Searching. It's not reassuring. Au contraire. The future looms ahead like a clouded day, fog obscuring the mind, the eyes, and the mind's eye. What happens next is a result of the future. My whole life is at stake. Both mental and physical. The success is determined young. Let's take a walk on the path of the Maybe. It may be one way, it may be the other, but it's always straight. This is the place where Dreams are no longer a safehaven. Where the best Dream is to stay and be still, like a quiet object in the rushing moments of life.

a dream in the future

Everything I know, everything I am, slipping through my fingers. Everything I thought about the future crumbles away like dust through the cruel hands of fate. Every abstract notion haunts me, always clenched in the back of my mind. Fading friends stand on the innocent sands of shore while I wave goodbye, never to be the same again. Trapezing like a funambulist with a practiced smile plastered on my face as I walk on the thin tightrope of life, on the brink of falling down into the depths of the dark abyss.

a dream in the rain

A raindrop falls onto the outreaching hand of a mangled, lichen-covered tree. It drips down, following an unseen path like a salmon instinctively struggling upstream to its birthplace. Traveling over gnarls, the veins of soggy leaves, and even through the cracks in bark. Once the tiny drop of sky reaches its destination-the earthy ground-it gets soaked up, and has the pleasure of starting life.

a dream with a pencil

One must have an observing eye and a steady hand. Holding the pencil, you lightly connect the paper and utensil-the means and the end. Intricately yet freely sketching an object, you study its curvature, shadow, and impression. With a pencil, one has limited means to communicate, yet unlimited in the mind of the beholder. Forming something with the mighty pencil requires an emotion or inspiration. For one, it's crooning music. Another, the rainy streets of Paris. For me, it's whatever moves me to use the pencil-the creator's beloved tool.

a dream in the city

Flashing lights, continuous movement, the clatter of construction. Buildings reach higher and higher, extending their arms up to the sky. The light brightens the skyscrapers' glass windows and makes you pity the one who cleans them. The rustle of shopping bags and the rudeness of city-goers constitute the sidewalks. But the feeling of being minute in this city of tall buildings and fancy stores stirs an aweness inside you. Passing by sale signs and smelling the wafts of delicious food brings a smile to your face. Climbing to the top of a hotel to take in the grand view of the world makes you reach for your camera. Hanging off the side of a cable car rolling down the precarious streets twirls the hair around your face. The distinct smell of crab and fish tickles your nose. As you drive away, over the historical bridge, you remember the dream-like feel of a city and its powers of persuasion.