★Airdoodles.

It was exactly a year ago.

On the field of fallen memoirs there rose a sprout of life. A seedling that grew from a seed of the bittersweet fruit of a forgotten tree. A tree of intertwined stems adorned with leaves in a spectrum of colours. A tree of beauty, yet a tree of death.

The glow of the sprout seduced me, captured me. Its scent wafted through my nostrils. Its odour possessing – like an irresistible smokestring of opium. Entrapped in a trance I let it corrupt me. I didn’t move while it grew with haste. That enchanting tree. Growing before my eyes exactly the way I witnessed it grow eras ago. It was deja vu.

On the sixth day she offered me her fruits. But strangely at that time it was sweet. No trace of the bitterness that was. Concealed poison, but I have always been hungry for it.

I realized that sooner, I had to kill this tree before it kills me. “I have to set it ablaze.” I said. But I couldn’t. I intentionally dropped the flint and fuel off my hands. I was ready to die. And just when I was about to slit my throat to water her with my blood, a strange thing occured.

Bizarre.

The tree killed itself.

On second thought, I never really fell in love with the ones who think their reams of printed paper, exorbitant numbers in their bankbooks, and round pieces of shiny metal can buy the world.

I’m not speaking to each and every member of the alta sociedad. Don’t get me wrong. I have good friends who never slapped money on other people’s faces.

But most of them are strange. Strange in a twisted, bizarre way.

The great thing about my current job is the opportunity to not just speak with a lot of people, but to converse. To communicate. To connect. To touch lives.

With the humble ones, who are earning just enough (or less), I hear of modesty. Of honesty. Of hopes and dreams that are eager to be built. There’s a solid bridge that is welcoming. There’s a great sense of humor. Telling jokes about life despite the struggles. There’s light. Genuine light.

The shimmering ones speak with utmost flamboyance. They brag of their education. “I’m educated.. in a premier academy (which you can never afford).” Vile. Hear yourself. When you get deprived of something you want, you’re no better than a toddler who spilt his milk: crying out loud and yelling words out of your wide mouth. What the rich wants, the rich gets? Please. Such education. Such sophistication. Touch life? Mine? No, thanks.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe because I don’t understand your clique. I don’t understand; maybe because I was never one of you.

Your reams of printed paper, your exorbitant numbers in your bankbooks, your round pieces of shiny metal – if a small spark gets to it and sets them ablaze, they’ll burn. They will all burn with your corrupted carcass swimming so fervently in them.

My heart will always be for the poor. Because I’m one of them. Actually, we’re never poor. We’re a whole lot richer than you think. We may not always have enough money, but we’re richer. And proud of it. :)

One of my role models is Bob Dylan. As I grew up, I learned the lyrics to all his songs and watched him never stand still. If you look at the artists, if they get really good, it always occurs to them at some point that they can do this one thing for the rest of their lives, and they can be really successful to the outside world but not really be successful to themselves. That’s the moment that an artist really decides who he or she is. If they keep on risking failure, they’re still artists. Dylan and Picasso were always risking failure. This Apple thing is that way for me. I don’t want to fail, of course. But even though I didn’t know how bad things really were, I still had a lot to think about before I said yes. I had to consider the implications for Pixar, for my family, for my reputation. I decided that I didn’t really care, because this is what I want to do. If I try my best and fail, well, I’ve tried my best.

—CNN Money/Fortune, November 9, 1998

Look away. I’m not crying.
Rest in peace, Mr. Jobs. You are the best.

From cover to cover. In an amazing and tranquil ambiance. Beach. Porch. My bed and rain.