Love. The velvety, buttery feeling… sweet and a little strange… supposed to be good for you, very nutritious.

Just like soy milk.

Two weeks is but half a blink… and a lot of things happen in the space of half a blink. A life is snuffed out, affections fade, hope dies out after much struggle.

Two weeks is longer than a lifetime. The Aloe plant will not have grown a single inch yet. People whom I left waiting at the bus stop will still be exactly at the same spot. My thoughts about someone will neither grow nor diminish.

And what is the meaning of it all, Ulrich?

Is life like a drop of moisture that seems so insignificant and of no purpose whatsoever even as it evaporates rapidly on the palm of my hand?

Or is it a profound ocean in front of me whose span I can never assume to gauge, no matter how far back I go and look at?