Discreet Prudence

As I pondered of something to write, a million chapters unfolded and begged to be included. Alas, the words just dun seem to dance in symphony and the skits that appeared almost instantly, begins to fade in the blackness of space. It's uncanny how quickly the mind shuts off when the heart's unwilling.

In retrospect, I figured that many a story could not be reproduced accurately enough to reflect its enacted truth. The human mind is divided into its semantic and episodic memories. Suffice to say that our episodic memories may be rather fluid and are inadvertently shaped by our expectations and experience. A loud bang outside the house may remind a young chap of fireworks he'd seen in the national day parade, a burst tyre to his father and perhaps of world war bombings for his grandmother. And they would react in awe, anger or desperation accordingly.

Even in history books, one will find several conflicting theories on how things began or ended. The world wars for example - what the Germans engineered may not be congruent to what the British recite in their literature or what the Americans tried to propagate.

Thus perhaps, just in case - if my heart will one day allow the mind to speak, it shall be done in a manner of discreet prudence yet without fear or favour. It shall also be done with absolute understanding that the truths may be a little obliterated due to my own set of beliefs and understanding of things - a weakness inherent in me, as I wade through and perceive the world with perhaps an obscured view and less than perfect sights.