"Cemetery of Forgotten Books. "


Suntec City a few days back. Nothing intentional, just a normal day out. And then, this.


A cemetery of forgotten books.
Just lying there, in no particular order or hierarchy of priority.
Just.
There.




One day, I'll fucking get a refuge for these goodfellas.
And I'm not gonna let anybody get to that cemetery.
And then one day, I'll publish something.
Fuckin great.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.