Nobody knew,
Nobody heard,
Nobody saw,
Nobody felt,
Nobody could have imagined.

Crying silent tears,
Calling for us silently,
Lost in a world of silence,
Your soul imprisoned by silence,
Your mind intoxicated in silence,
and your heart silently stops beating.

Why? Is the question I ask in respectful silence: it holds true that life is just as much saying goodbye, as it is saying hello – even if those goodbyes are at times inaudible, or, silent.

Krissa: your warmth, love, and compassion will always be with us. Never will we forget the times past. May your soul Rest in Peace.

A man in my position is expected to wear a mask for so long that he forgets who was beneath it. Please excuse my rigidity as I attempt to balance masculinity and honesty within one swift maneuver of the pen – and all this, without a single iota of help. They said that speaking of romance and matters of the heart would make a man weak… On the contrary, it only makes a man more passionate in times of war. When we could only be as strong as the woman that raised us, my tears wet this paper like the rain wets the ground. Like an embryo in the secrecy of a womb, I was held incommunicado for a predefined period of time. Here, I reveal a manuscript, perhaps naively, to delineate an immaculate blueprint of many men within the context of our personas. To shine the light of understanding on the aphotic regions of my heart, to know what makes my brothers suffer dolorous moments in silence during the matutinal hours of the day.

Scientifically, tears are produced when the lachrymal glands’ nicotinic and muscarinic receptors are activated. As a sentient human being in a perceptible world, the tears secreted by these glands are naturally released in times of pain and joy. Tears, which, in the absence of witnesses have absolutely no chance of being wiped away. A man’s tears, however, are manipulated and monopolized by an eternal social taboo. A man cries from within; our tears are not at the eye level, but at the bottom of our hearts concealed in an infinitesimally vacuous space. Alone, where no eyes are open, tears become the prison that introduces a man to himself. In times of pain, we tighten our musculatures under the umbrella of our egos. At the swing of the historical pendulum, we witness another generation surrounded by hearts of stone, in cities of stone, stoned in their quest to seek alternative avenues of meaning. In life, many are nothing more than a spectator – an anonymous face in the back of an opaque discotheque, in the midst of disturbed visages in the smoke. Here I see my brothers trying to maintain a façade in the limelight, but weeping silently with each his own story never foretold; narrated only in the subconscious because you simply never saw the pain in his eyes.

We all became an outward mirror of an inner condition; the helpless victims of random childhood events fated to plunge memoryless into an adulthood whose every aspect grew daily more obscure. The modern world has shamed us; our souls extensively marinated in the culture of speed – systematically desensitized, fractionized, and homogenized by the umbrage of mutual misunderstanding. Opting for solitude rather than allowing love to take its course, we suffer an emotional impairment that disables us from trusting one another. Thus, we enunciate our frustrations like the victims of a broken promise. It is as though our best efforts could never appease the wounds that lie within, clinching to emotional addictions that refuse to satisfy the heart’s vacuity. Hastening our own demise as we look for substitutes in a heavy patina of ephemeral relationships, we’re absent in our presence, we’re surrounded yet alone, slowly sinking into a dense miasma of longing. It’s here that we try to exist, engulfed by an unrequited sentiment of loss; an ironic feeling of not knowing what we’ve lost.

Mystified by competing priorities and unable to escape these worldly superficialities, many men run out of money chasing women, but never run out of women chasing money. Succumbing to vanity and eroding moral absolutes, we become opportunists seeking to be emotionally honest. In anticipatory salivation we are transformed into cut-throat desperadoes leeching for substitutes. But there are no replacements – most are left to stand alone in the darkness as love endlessly eludes them; a state of mind bearing resemblance to the times when you missed that special someone so much, you wanted to reach out and pull them out of your dreams.

The Mathematics of Love
Love – the word itself is often vocalized in vain. For a man, its power is often underestimated, antagonized and countermanded in his every effort. Too many refused to believe that when a man truly loves a woman, she will become the reason he smiles. Each day, he embraces her with an abundance of brio just as the sun caresses the sea. Effortlessly transforming fear into assurance, loneliness into companionship; the most unselfish act indeed. So here I am, writing my messages in code – no need for words, we passed each other silently only to look back when the moment was just right. Romantically hesitant, just like the wind; you felt it, but you could not see it. My heart could not beat without the rhythm of yours. I was enamored, bibulously soaking in your presence as the light from the crevice of your room reflected into mine. Alas, I had reminded myself to dash ahead and never look back, but in my weakness, my knees trembled at the reminiscence of souvenirs long-expired.

Mathematically speaking, I failed as to solving the mysterious equation of love. I wanted to subtract myself from this equation so that I could divide the pains from the joys and multiply the result, while adding another chapter to my book of trials. The geometry of love is complex, as though the angularity of our human nature lacks a vital measurement in the pursuit of our common hypotenuse. As I integrate myself over the interval of having written this text, I derive relationships between the symbols and variables appearing in my life – tediously pondering when I will reach my limit as I approach infinity…I remain terribly remiss in such affairs; the solution seems to be far from numerical, far removed from being the sum of finite quantities. Perhaps, this equation was never intended to be solved…

Despite my many failures, under an ominous sky I stand alone, non-branded and free-flowing. Even ends have beginnings; everything must be told in sequence and in context. Today, a sudden intake of fresh air invokes a caesura of pure awe plummeting towards the illuminated windows of my soul. Tomorrow, my memories alone produce a salubrious effect on my spirit. Each and every day, I’m existing to cherish a few amative moments under the candlelight, pristine conversations below the canopy free of self-induced agony. Safe and sound, because we knew from the very beginning that freedom is having nothing to prove in this life…

My Will

…Writing this at a time so still that 2007 seemed not to have begun at all. It’s amazing how much one can remember just by trying – whether remembering the past or dreaming of the future, it’s become clear to me that in hindsight, I’ve acted fallaciously. It’s a shame that I’ve gravitated so far across the globe without explanation. I could feel myself ebbing away from what means most, the hearts I’ve left behind, the numerous birthdays and anniversaries missed, the birth of children growing up and learning to dream, the tender moments by your side…Everything I touch and see embodies a reflection of your spirits, a fresh reminder of these depredations. Now I can only live our moments through photographs long expired. Tormented by ideas which refuse to settle into words, I’ve managed to accumulate a verbal holocaust, in hopes that you will take my words as a sign of contrition. I fragmented my obligations to you the day I promised never to turn away, so it is with deep anguish that I write this apology.

Nobody can face the world with his/her eyes open all the time and nobody said the transition from fear to love is easy. The system doesn’t build great men, it only kills great men. While managing my identity in a world that wants to define it for me, I would have become another statistic if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t stop myself from being. The perversity of misguided individuals compelled me to travel the globe in search of truth, and truth alongside its infinite questions is what I found. A golden year, in which I kept a low profile, often asocial, I was transformed by an environment in which multiple, often conflicting forces were accelerating simultaneously. I had to confirm my underlying assumptions about the commonality of humanity and come to terms with my lack of nationality, or transnationality. In respectful silence I confined myself to absolute solitude and became the apex of an isosceles triangle, supported equally by twin pillars of flesh and blood. In the darkness, I laid unphotographed. The foundation of my existence, the pain I suffered internally translated itself into tears that poured into an eternal abyss; an affliction that only finishes to run its course in the deepest of sleep.

Mind assassination, is how I would elucidate the messages delivered in the exotic simplicities of nomadism. Notwithstanding, the message was clear: I had to love myself before I could love others. I’m certainly not suggesting that the struggle was over then and there, but the vertebrae of freedom lied between the lines of that message, with the final chapter yet to be written. By redefining my purpose on earth one time after another, I was able to find a modicum of peace – an aggrandizement of my entire raison d’etre. Fortuitous encounters cultivated a constellation of irreplaceable friendships across the seven continents, where we evolved, became truly autonomous individuals, and remained mentally active. Our efforts were never unicellulate; we spoke with dignity and eloquence, and sought refuge in a locale where we could discuss peace against those who sanctioned violence. A sound analysis of society’s specious entities, with an extensive exposition to a broad range of human behavior revealed that more often than not, we lived in a world supported by the antithesis of freedom. To mend the wounds of mental slavery, I remain embarked on a near-impossible mission of creating freedom for ourselves and others. We don’t settle for mediocrity in the pursuit of success, well aware that success is merely psychological. My general opinion of such matters has been voiced long ago, expectorated in my erstwhile monologues. Immersed in my autobiographical enterprise, I exist to learn from my infinite mistakes and teach thereafter, all this to fight the battles worth fighting, to synthesize our horizons so that they may continue to reach the far corners of this earth.

It is today that in front of you, I stand ill-at-ease. Despite my multitudinous trials, the artificial distance that exists between you and I has become the hiatus of my life, the centerpiece of my existence. Like a bruise that refuses to fade, I’m at the mercy of your healing acceptance. My only solace, are the quintessential memories of your love for me…It is through the countless near-death encounters that I’ve become fully aware of my fragility, my impermanence, and the finite quantity of time at my disposal. So it is here that I also write my will and obfuscate no further to prosaically express my apologies. With the little possessions I have, I bow at your feet and surrender my life efforts to you, to love, to family, to friends, to humanity, and to infinity. The essence of these words seeks to act as comforter in times of change, and servile to your every need. All this to fulfill my filial exigencies and bequeath to our children a respect for the egoless purity of mind. Only then, can they transcend beyond the world of superficialities. And only then, can they be taught how to dream and live Luther King’s dream amongst their peers and loved ones. Birth and death, the dualism of my life is univocal and infinitely simple; to put vision into reality and take steps towards our final destiny. All in hopes that once again, you can trust me like you trust gravity.

恭祝母校110周年华诞

亲爱的北大：

您好么？别来无恙？

首先，要真诚地恭祝：生日快乐！

今年是您110岁的生日，很荣幸可以写信祝福您。每当回忆起和您共同度过的美好时光，心中便会充满了自豪与感激。在和您相处的日子里，一起学习和生活，点点滴滴，至今记忆犹新：还记得老师的谆谆教导，还记得和朋友们的朝夕相处，您不仅让我学到很多知识，也给了我许多的启发和体会，留下了深刻的印象。

还记得么？我和您的相逢是在2003年初。记得那时，北京的冬天十分寒冷，滴水成冰。可是，校方的热烈欢迎让北京的冬天不再寒冷。虽然，在去中国之前我已经学了半年的中文，但是，当到达北京首都机场的时候，我还是不敢用中文与当地人交谈。因为他们和我说话时，我几乎听不明白他们在说什么；即使听懂了一点，我也不知道该怎么回答。我的中文不熟练，我必须先花一段时间组织语言，想好了要说什么，才能回答。同时，也是因为是第一次来到中国，人生地不熟的缘故，我很是紧张。。。那时候，摆在我面前的最大挑战是要如何面对语言的障碍和适应在中国的生活。

在到达北京后的前三天，您为我们这些留学生安排了很多活动，帮助我们尽快融入到中国的同学中去。同学们的友善和老师们的帮助让我很快适应了这里的生活。记得那时老师们常常会主动找我谈话，问我喜欢吃什么，生活上有什么困难，是否需要帮助，将来想做什么。。。热心的同学还带领我们参观了校园，欣赏那写满了故事的书卷— 风景秀丽的未名湖，古香古色的治贝子园，百看不厌的湖光塔影。。。

说起北大的校园生活，不知他人最深和最初的印象是什么。而于我，肯定是勺园的汉语中心！我最爱到北大的勺园大楼，沉思或是与友人闲谈。偶尔，我会在勺园的门口徘徊很长一段时间，或是和朋友们交流，谈上几个小时，有时常常连饭都忘了吃！老师和我们的关系也非常融洽和密切，常常会和我们聚在一起。当时的同屋兄弟，也如同家人一般。记得那时我们住在北大勺园9号楼，宿舍的大门要在午夜十二点钟关闭，有时候我们回来迟了，很担心会进不去。可是，每次宿舍的管理员总是很友善，把他吵醒了，也不会生气，而且很友善的把我们“放”回家中。

走在勺园，可随处听到各国语言，看到来自各国留学生匆匆行走的身影。我们的生活虽说忙碌，但很充实。当走进宿舍，你常常会看到同学们的桌上堆满了各种课本，大家会一边准备口语课的报告，一边准备汉语水平考试。

象我一样，很多人都很喜欢在傍晚的时候徜徉未名湖。白天，忙于学习；夜晚，是属于寂静和沉思的时刻，我们尽情的享受着那份宁谧和诗意。

整个学校都沉浸在浓浓的中外友好的氛围中，是您给我留下的最深刻的记忆。这里的每个同学都是那样的积极和活跃，他们是那样渴望了解异域他国的历史和文化，大家总是热烈的探讨着，常常直至深夜。我也经常把自己当成外交官，作为国家和民族的使者（虽然这个责任有点重），与中国本地和来自世界各地的同窗们进行交流。这不仅加深了我对中国悠久历史和文化的了解，也让我知道了中国更多的风土人情。沟通和交流让我和朋友们走得更近，了解得更深。

离开北大之后，我非常惊奇地发现，很多当年的外国同窗也都跟我一样，仍然被这里的文化氛围所深深吸引，想念这里的景色，怀念一同走过的日子，带着相同的思念，我们留恋至今。作为一个外国留学生，能够在中国最优秀的学府–北京大学求学让我感到非常荣幸。来北京大学学习是我人生中的明智选择，我很庆幸自己曾经拥有过这样宝贵的学习经历。除了带给我学术上的提升外，还给了我终生难忘的人生体验。在未来的人生中，我也许将要面对很多新的挑战，但我深信，您所教给我的，可以让我很好的装备自己，充满信心地迎接每一个挑战。与此同时，也想深深地感谢所有曾经帮助过我的老师和朋友们，是你们，让我融入了北大这个温暖的充满了人文关怀的大家庭中，珍藏下许多美好的记忆。

期待在不久的将来可以再次重返美丽的北大校园！

亲爱的北大朋友们，在远方的飞恩会永远支持你们！

校友：王飞龙
二〇〇七年十二月十二日

很多人会问我说唱音乐（HIP-HOP）的含义到底是什么？
HIP-HOP这种随意的音乐表现形式往往能及时把我们身边发生的一些事情说出来，甚至即兴说出来的一些内容可以当成大众传媒的信息来源。通过 HIP-HOP这个窗口公众也逐渐了解到我们社会的生活情况。HIP-HOP音乐文化一直就非常活跃，最初诞生在底层人的大街上，它因为贫穷而产生，但是现在已经走向世界的各个大街小巷，作为一个MC我是为这种文化最积极的推动者，同时也会大力支持世界上所有了解HIP-HOP本意的人。

走在这里的街头，绝对不是我一个人被凝视，
有一些事情你知道得越少，也对你有好处，
告诉我怎么做才能得到自由，谈的是现实而不是金钱，
我们这边以愚昧无知为耻，想把虚伪的一切消灭，
别问我来自哪里，也别我要去哪里，因为我家就在我心里
天天憶苦思甜。。。ONE LOVE. 飞龙

She came into my life as quickly as I could lose my life. When I thought love had escaped my side once again, there she was, with the verb in full action. And there I was, slowly melting in her arms as the warm kisses cushioned by her luscious lips carried me into a metaphysical heaven. In this heavenly realm is where I discovered the most beautiful human being to have touched my heart. Like a blessing from infinity built in the image of relative perfection, her very presence redefined the word beauty in terms of moral character. While actresses attempted to lure me away from the truth, our joint presence exposed honor in times of obscurity, compassion in times of hostility, and sovereignty in times of subjugation. We dreamt of faraway lands never forgetting where we came from, because where we come from has determined where we are going.

And so here I go again, the same Ason unchanged at the core, deservingly losing her to natural human tendency. A tendency that will surely bring her happiness, as she puts herself out of parallel with my mundane character. I’m only left with these words to serve as a testament to our experience and gratefulness for our bond… I wanted her to know I’m there for her, I wanted to tell her how much she means to me, I wanted to tell her what life means to me, I wanted her to know that everything will be okay… But now that there is physical distance between us I only have these sweet memories forever scorched into my mind, reminding me of her heart close to mine, beating to the sound of infinite connection…