iPhoneagraphy.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

To commemorate the ending of Trials 2 (also my last ever high school exam), the sky decided to be even more beautiful than usual, changing from a beautiful golden shade of yellow to glorious pinks and purples as the day wound down.

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It’s hard to put into words the feeling I had as I sat alone in the car, taking in, no, marvelling the gradually changing colours of the surroundings.

I couldn’t help but feel as though the sky was feeling feminine today.

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Although personification is used as a literary device, on days like today, I wonder if there are some truths to an angry sky and a dancing tree. I wonder how we, as humans, would change or react if we knew that plants had feelings and grass could feel pain. And if the sky actually was feeling feminine.

I remember how I used to sit on my field in primary school during those achingly long ceremonies, committing mass murder (heehee) by ripping out handfuls of grass and tossing them at my friends. Would I have done differently knowing that they felt it? I mean, I eat meat and I know that the animals have to die for it. So, what if plants could feel? Would I still step on grass?

How far off can that theory be anyway?

At the age of seven, we were already tasked to write autobiographies of pencils and shoes and erasers and what not, all ending with the oh-so-cliché ‘walaupun telah diabaikan begitu sahaja, aku berasa bangga kerana telah berjasa kepada tuanku’ or something to that effect.

Although I’ve just been discarded and ignored, I feel proud that I have been of use to my master.

If plants and inanimate objects could feel, what are the chances that they feel that way? That they would be appreciative for having been of service?

Ahaha, I know for sure that if I were my pencil, my thoughts would be along the lines of ‘SCREW YOU, MAN! I gave my body to you to use for your own intent, and you leave me unsharpened for some other pencil!?!? BUY A SHARPENER, DAMNIT!”

Or I’d probably get real annoyed for being dropped all the time. Ohh, boy, I would really hate to be those missing pencils that must have rolled to some random dusty corner, forgotten and alone. Sad smile

All this is highly improbable, I know, but when I was younger, I was so convinced that my books had feelings. If I dropped them, I would pick them up hurriedly and kiss them, apologizing to my books. I would bid goodbye to my stuffed animals before I go to school, patting them on the heads and all.

I don’t know how or when, but as I grew older, I stopped believing that. Plants don’t feel and stuffed animals remain inanimate even if we leave the room. I stopped trying to run back quickly and silently ala The Little Princess (one of my favourite books) to catch them in action.

And now, I sit here, after having seen the colour transition of the sky, wondering if the sky’s mood had anything to do with it, wondering if somewhere out there, blades of grass are cursing my name for having killed their relatives, wondering if Dustin’s frustrated at being ignored – of feeling like a paralyzed man, with a soul trapped within an immobile body.

Scary, isn’t it?

I mean, they probably can’t feel a thing. Able to respire, but not emote. Able to stare, but not able to react.

But, what if?

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