You know what’s worse than I have been

Time to time you read me readers do you know that, I don’t read any news about my country, or city, or listen, or watch, or discuss, for long.

But what’s worse than that?

Recently one day when I got on my bus to work, I met a passenger, who is around 60 years old. She had a Takungpao with her on bus. Takungpao is a newspaper sponsored by communist China. For long. We growing up in this city since 80s used to love many things from China. Even women. Still do. But one thing from this country this junta do we always hold in contempt. Their newspaper. Because we all know what’s in those papers is all falsity. Hilariously untrue. No one in my city would take it by hand and then read it seriously.

But that woman. She sat on the bus in my opposite. She looked serious. She looked calm. Not inebriated. Opened her Takungpao in her hands. Read it. Like it’s a serious reading. Like I am reading my things in my hand. After a serious 30 mins, during the time I finished around 10 pages of On The Wild Side in my kindle, there she was again. Closed her formal paper size Takungpao. Put in her hand bag. Like it’s something she treated seriously. Like she always was. Then she used her right hand fingers to fidget the Buddha beads brace hanging on her left wrist. She closed her eye, mumbling some words silently like munching. Maybe Buddhist hymns I guessed but never know. And she fell into her zen.

Takungpao Buddha zen seriously solemnly sobriety

When those unrelated concepts link up, however hysterically, you should be worried. At least I am worrying. Falsified is normalised as serious reading for wisdom. And the reader feels proud of it. Calmly proud. Like some state she finally reaches.

But I cannot help but blame you. It’s your craze your heroism your hysteria your self-righteously bombshell of vandalism (at best) of destroying everything good about this city. Your twister of justice as a shaft of your beastie anger. That is pushing that woman to hold on some shit as zen. Maybe more of that is happening everywhere at the same time. All because of your so called Revolution of Your Time. You can keep believing it’s her their everyone’s faults, except yourselves. But it hasn’t ridden a slice of guilt off you. What you did is what you did.

And I don’t care. Maybe it’s what you have aimed for. After all. Who am I to say anything?


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