what she meant by waters were--oh my god, should i explain? this is like, worse than making a U-turn or a circular path after a long walk down the road. where words are dry like leaves of trees she passes by; orange everyday because she never believes in seasons.

and waters, what else? they were all her mom could ever ask for: 'please, let us have some of your waters down your cheek. remember when i slapped you for stealing a carton of milk pocky?' and then she looked around. crews were waiting, waiting for a dramatic, nationalistic spirit that was supposed to be brought up, bunch of clueless children set against the warm sunlight, against the wind, singing a song but not allowed of pronouncing it. cameras, all ready, frowns and sadness everywhere. only this child looking as joyful as ever.

how could i remember pain that is not there anymore, i am happy, mom. to be in such a beautiful place with you, she thought. how could i recall something that has ceased to exist? yet she tried. but not a drop of liquid gliding smoothly on her either cheek, each one kept itself very safely, intact far down her eye sockets. and then everything went black. black that was her mom's nightmare.

years later, roads still rough and leaves still dry. smile no longer clean, frowns began unravelling. numbers had become an increasingly important matter, a set of desperate measures, because the world needed something concrete to hold on to. memories, as always, were still fragile. that was what she had learnt before, all the more when she grew up. backed with various researches adorning the corners of each page of her psychology book, which looked promising and bright but were never as evident as what she had experienced those few years down the road. what says the movie always had, had always rung a bell in her head because to her, they were very, very true.

"Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts."

"There are things you know for sure. I know what that's going to sound like when I knock on it. I know that's what going to feel like when I pick it up. See? Certainties. It's the kind of memory that you take for granted."

"Look at it out here, it's all falling apart. I'm erasing you and I'm happy!"

if some people were that willing to erase some memories, how lucky they would be had they known what it felt to be me, she thought. but she, too, was no longer what she used to be. she could not now forget some sensations, even those that happened thousands of hours before. even those that had been subconsciously altered, far from what they were actually like, in the beginning of time. because memories do not inhabit the linear space of time we are rushing through every day, memories never get old, only dusty and tattered a little. ready to be retrieved, all the time. we would like to remember things not as how they used to be, but as how we would like them to be remembered. details we wanted our attention to be focused on. whether they elicit pain or a certain kind of high. how could it get more and more difficult to forget?

(answer this only when you get old. when your body is a home to alzheimer's or dementia disorders. not now.)

i do not care if tears turn men off. to me, waters--tears are the purest indicator of your happiness. of your remembrance. could be something that had happened, or had not happened. could be something real or something in your dream. could be happiness or sadness. either way, tears are real blessing. cover your face when you cry and from the sound, from all the writhes, i'd tell you things you'd like to hear the most. tears tell more than words, get more misunderstood than strings of sentences arbitrarily joined together.

i would like myself to understand that, two extremes are sometimes the most similar. pain and high. sadness and blessing. joy and pain, again. numbers are never the accurate measure, i want you to understand. i do not say this to demolish the concrete beliefs you have spent so much energy to cling your fingers to, but this is, the truth as i would like you to remember. statistics are lies, but if you want to get through for once and all with the system, just stick to them. but never dissolve yourself and disbelieve these words. the world is not the same world without waters.

these non fabricated crystals of salty liquid, may they stay with you forever.