this is page 217 of my autobiography. feel free to get your red pens out and edit the craziness out of it ;)
question: I guess a read of AS I LAY DYING is necessary to understand the reference at the end... but is the last faulkner reference odd?
nothing else to observe but the sterility so I turned to my favorite book.
Despite the brilliance of Faulkner, I could not concentrate at all. Maybe it's because I was nervous, or maybe because I'm scared, or maybe the asylum white walls are starting to get to my head. In any case, hospitals always evoke memories of my grandfather. He was my best friend, my teacher, and my hero and I absolutely hate the fact that I associate such a great man to such a bland environment.
Baba was bed ridden with pancreatic cancer. I can still remember the hot and humid Malaysian climate and the hospital room where he first taught me the ways of origami. I would stay by his side while the silent animations of my parents, aunts, and uncles arguments played out like a television program through the clear glass window.
Despite the dim hospital atmosphere, Baba and I restored vivacity by folding cranes. His lean fingers quivered as he creased the paper in a methodical manner. From time to time, his smokers' cough broke the tranquility. Moments later he would weakly shoot me a smile silently reassuring me everything was okay. I labored away for two weeks in order to fold the perfect crane that would win his approval.
My 139th crane was the one. The white paper exuded brilliance beyond any of its other predecessors. I presented my bit of paper magic to him. He smiled and said in a hushed tone, "I guess my work here is done." That night he passed away. There is a legend that if one folds one thousand paper cranes, the soul can achieve eternal peace. With his warm scent of cigar smoke and his fond memories fresh in mind, I knew I had to finish his journey. In two days, I folded the remaining 861 cranes.
if
Vardaman's mother is a fish.
then
My grandfather is a crane.
question: I guess a read of AS I LAY DYING is necessary to understand the reference at the end... but is the last faulkner reference odd?
nothing else to observe but the sterility so I turned to my favorite book.
Despite the brilliance of Faulkner, I could not concentrate at all. Maybe it's because I was nervous, or maybe because I'm scared, or maybe the asylum white walls are starting to get to my head. In any case, hospitals always evoke memories of my grandfather. He was my best friend, my teacher, and my hero and I absolutely hate the fact that I associate such a great man to such a bland environment.
Baba was bed ridden with pancreatic cancer. I can still remember the hot and humid Malaysian climate and the hospital room where he first taught me the ways of origami. I would stay by his side while the silent animations of my parents, aunts, and uncles arguments played out like a television program through the clear glass window.
Despite the dim hospital atmosphere, Baba and I restored vivacity by folding cranes. His lean fingers quivered as he creased the paper in a methodical manner. From time to time, his smokers' cough broke the tranquility. Moments later he would weakly shoot me a smile silently reassuring me everything was okay. I labored away for two weeks in order to fold the perfect crane that would win his approval.
My 139th crane was the one. The white paper exuded brilliance beyond any of its other predecessors. I presented my bit of paper magic to him. He smiled and said in a hushed tone, "I guess my work here is done." That night he passed away. There is a legend that if one folds one thousand paper cranes, the soul can achieve eternal peace. With his warm scent of cigar smoke and his fond memories fresh in mind, I knew I had to finish his journey. In two days, I folded the remaining 861 cranes.
if
Vardaman's mother is a fish.
then
My grandfather is a crane.
