The night seems to be longer than it suppose to be. I am tired with my work and the workload is increasing by time. I just shut down my Sketchup, I save my Palm Meridian proposal and hopefully I will finish this particular proposal by this month end. Close this chapter. Hoping for a Chinese Investor to pump in money as they have promised. I got Al-Radji Bank as well to back up this proposal. Not so sure if they accept this proposal but somehow, if this work I will get this project; a project for life time. If they reject, at least I have the gut to stand up, propose and negotiate with an establish financier.
I am intrigued with the best news that I have been waiting for years. To be exact, it is close to twelve bloody years. I win. Jeeva, you loose! You fat, burnt, black tart!
Yes. It goes back to 1997. I was......
I got cold feet when I suppose to write about it.
Why I got cold feet writing about my past. I have not cheated. It is history. It is a life of a gray past and why am I lacking of gut to write? I have been writing, debate, negotiate and scheme at the highest level in business. Everything seem so easy but not this particular writing. I just try to find a way. Not the right way, not grammatically correct sentences that I always failed to imply in my writing. Something is not right.
Something says, just go ahead and skip this twenty paragraph of stories. It is a heartache. This is a chapter of my life that I have torn off from the book of my life, sealed into a cryptext and now, I am about to reopen it. Yet I feel I do not have the confidence to turn the combination. I memorized it well but it is not really something I feel I suppose to do at this very moment. Probably I afraid that the papyrus with stories of vanity but what is there to be shared.
Yet. I am standing at a crossroad whether to write further of leave it as it is. So far everything is in equilibrium and do I need to wreck it up? I am not taking chances.
All I know, I am smiling and keep things to myself. I am happy somehow things are working the way I have intended eleven years ago. A prayer got answer and perhaps intervention at its own right.
One day when the time is right, this cryptext will unleash stories.
I end this chapter with anonymity. Let these pages of life wash away with purported value and contribution in life. It means nothing, however it may stand some meaning at effected individual.
The curtain of the opera is down. She who loves the opera and sings to the music of the phantom will understand. Someday and somehow she will remember that white wagon she once ride and the brown chariot she once had. She is the one who hardly understood why there is a need of a silk from China when she actually can settle for a pair of canvas. She who read scriptures all day long and to my surprise only 6 pages. She who love buses and train. She was once reside at the Island of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles. She is an angel who loved a prince afar, who turn her down. She who enchanted others with her Perpetual grace. Her words sometime stumbles unlike the prophecy of Melkin. She symbolize Herbert Spencer quote, "Survival of the fittest' eleven years ago.
I write this as a tribute to her.
I win because my prayers was answered.
I pray for her best and she have the best man for herself.
It has always been a legacy of pure friendship regardless of the way it destined to be.
God Speed! God bless! Amen.
This particular photo has it own story
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