စိတ်ထဲရှိသမျှ

I dreamt of Mikey last night. It seemed we were somewhere across the country, either in a liberated zone or on a battlefield. It was nighttime and we were in a building that appeared to be a massive warehouse with a thatched roof and some bamboo walls but it protected us from neither wind nor rain. There were many of us resting, each in our own mosquito net. I shared one with Mikey and lay next to him. I could feel the hardness of the ground and the dampness of the wet grass. Mikey was explaining to

By the time I found out that wearing red clothes today should be avoided, I was in a classroom, wearing a bright red football jersey both the inside and outside of which are red, so turning it inside out wasn’t an option either. Even the raincoat I have got is half red. The craziness did not stop with the red jersey and raincoat. The handle grips of my bicycle are red too. I was in a place where military personnel were swarmed and highly active. I thought I was doomed and couldn’t stop thinking about how to make it back home. The colour definition, or let's say symbolism,

For the first time in two weeks I felt like my prayer had finally been answered. I usually hate getting out of bed early in the morning, especially when it is raining. But today I had the pleasure of staying in bed for as long as I wanted. I took this rare opportunity with a cup of hot coffee, stayed under my blanket, and listened to the raindrops falling outside. It was a truly cozy feeling. And since the Buddhist Lent has started, I can only teach my nephew on Sundays, so today I had quite a bit of free time. I spent half of the day in bed, surfing the web, watching a few comedy clips on social media and YouTube. I also downloaded

ကုန်လွန်ခဲ့တဲ့ 2009s နောက်ပိုင်းမှာ ကျနော်တို့ ဆယ်ကျော်သက်တွေအတွက် pen friends ထားတယ် ဆိုတာဟာ တစ်ခေတ်တစ်ခါရဲ့ trend တစ်ခုအဖြစ် ရှိခဲ့တယ်။ ကျနော်ရဲ့ pen friend ကတော့ Philippines ကပဲ။ သူက ကျနော်ထက် နှစ်နှစ်လောက် ငယ်မယ်။ ကျနော်တို့ email တွေအရှည်ကြီးရေးကြတယ်။ ပြောတဲ့အကြောင်းအရာတွေကတော့ အစုံပဲ — နေ့စဉ်ဘဝတွေအကြောင်း၊ သီချင်းနဲ့ပတ်သက်တဲ့အကြောင်း၊ ပွဲတော်ရက်တွေ၊ ကြည့်ဖြစ်တဲ့ရုပ်ရှင်တွေ၊ ဖတ်ဖြစ်တဲ့စာအုပ်တွေ စတဲ့ အကြောင်းအရာတွေပေါ့။ မိုးရာသီနေ့တစ်နေ့မှာ ကျနော် နာမည်လိပ်စာမူထားတဲ့ delivery တစ်ခုရောက်လာတယ် — DHL နဲ့ပို့

I woke up this morning with nostalgic feelings. I had a dream about my brother, whom I haven’t seen for almost 2 years. In the dream, I was visiting him in his room, but it looked completely different. It was more like a bamboo hut now and he was sharing it with a few people there. He looked fit and fine. I don’t even remember whether I was happy to see him or not, but we exchanged updates about our lives. Then I woke up. I missed him so much that I even texted him on Messenger, even though I knew I probably wouldn’t get a reply. In the morning, I did my laundry

Shared below is the “Denken an den Freund bei Nacht” by Hermann Hesse (Suhrkamp Verlag, Berlin, 1953), written back in September 1914. Today I'd like to dedicate this peom in honour of my friend’s memory, who passed away two years ago today, as it resonates with themes of friendship, longing, and the sorrow of parting. I have also shared the English translation by James Wright (Jonathan Cape, London, 1977), for those of us who do not speak German. Denken an den Freund bei Nacht Früh kommt in diesembösen Jahr der Herbst. Ich geh bei Nacht im Feld,

အသက်ကြီးလာလေလေ နှစ်တွေကုန်တာမြန်လေလေ ဆိုတာဟုတ်တယ်။ ၂၀၂၅ ကို welcomed ခဲ့တာ recently လို့ထင်ရပေမဲ့ နောက်လဆိုရင် half of the year is already to be gone မဟုတ်လား။ ၂၀၂၅ မှာ Russian နဲ့ German classic literature စာအုပ်ဖတ်တွေ များများဖတ်မယ်လို့ planned ထားခဲ့ပေမဲ့ အခု ၅လကျော်လာပြီ “what is to be done” စာအုပ်မပြီးသေးဘူး။ စိတ်ပိုင်းဆိုင်ရာကတော့ still fucked up နေတုန်း။ တချို့ရက်တွေမှာ ၄ နှစ်အရွယ် ကလေးတစ်ယောက်လို့ မကျေနပ်တာတွေကို တစ်ခုပြီးတစ်ခု ခြေဆောင့်ပြီး အော်ဟစ်၊ ပြောဆို ငိုလိုက်ချင်တယ်။ တချို့ရက်တွေတော့ fuck this, fuck that, fuck all ဆိုပြီး

Portrait Bernard Noël- 1930 où est la lettre? cette question vient d’un mourant puis il se tait tant qu’un homme vit il n’a pas besoin de compter sa langue quand un homme meurt il doit rendre son alphabet de chaque mort nous attendons le secret de la vie le dernier souffle emporte la lettre manquante elle s’envole derrière le visage elle se cache au milieu du nom

You smiled today. Not any smile but one of which I had never seen before. It was natural, filled with joy, and impossible for you to hide. Two days ago, you told me that you were looking for a specific book. I was glad that you had made reading a part of your habit. Then you told me the book was not for you. It was for your girlfriend. You wanted to buy her, Smile As They Bow by Nu Nu Ye (Inwa), the Burmese version. I told you a bit about the book, how difficult it is to find, and how it was banned within the country once. You listened without questions.