To: E.Y.

You are a mother to be!

I am invaded by so much joy that I simply can not restrain myself. Congratulations, my dearest friend! From this moment on, you are not just a woman and a wife, but a sacred, blessed mortal who is destined to bring a new life into the world.

You are a mother to be!

What an honorable thing! A baby. Not a plant and not a pet, but a tiny little human being with its own potential and life and future and more and more. I cannot yet grasp this concept fully, but I glorify it like those faithful Christians do or at least should do.

You are a mother to be!

I imagine holding your new born with the utmost care - such a precious and delicate little body in my arms, crying and kicking, breathing and living. The thought of this makes me wanting to cry. So I weep, shamelessly, out of true happiness for you and the little seed in your belly.

You are a mother to be!!!

High and Above

Location: Gallery
Floor/Aisle: 6/3
Section: Center Left
Row: J Seat: 119


"Last row here! Yuuup, right there. Noooo need to go any further!"

The usher spoke in a rather sarcastic tone and handed me a program booklet: "Enjoy the concert!"

Gallery in Chicago's Symphony Center, a.k.a the "nose-bleeding" section, exists six flights off from the Main Floor. My luck that day mercilessly destined my seat to be located in the very last row of the Gallery. I was quite aware of the randomness of the seat assignments from last-minute rush tickets. But, Com'ooon... SIX flights up, And the last row? How could it be This bad!

It was a CSO concert that I had looked forward to: Charles Dutoit was to conduct the "Pathetique" Symphony - one of my favorite symphonies by Tchaikovsky.

The air up there was thin and suffocating. Smells of human odors seemed to be fanning at me from different directions like waves. Instantly I felt nauseous.

The seat, let's just say there wasn't much of a view of the stage to be polite, but in fact there was no view at all. Sitting comfortably in a normal human being and chair interaction, I could only see the heads of the percussionists and the empty area behind them, and of course rows and rows of Gallery-mates. I tried to lean forward, but became uneasy to be extremely close with the man sitting in front of me. A sweaty man, I may add, who began to fan himself with the program in hand.

Lights dimmed. An immediate silence took place, so forceful it muted all sounds and movements.

All I could see was darkness.

Quietly, I folded up my seat, and leaned carefully on the edge.

The lit-up stage appeared far below, glowing like a gold mine.

Everything seemed surreal. Those small black dots on stage were constantly moving, but I could hardly associate their movements with the music I was hearing. It was a TV screen. It was the end of a black tunnel. It was the fantasy world through the key hole of Alice in Wonderland.

My legs were getting sore from half-standing. Lisa's voice whispered in my head: "Hug the mid-line..." I pressed them together.

By the end of the first movement, the lower half of my body had already gone sleep. I gave up, I gave up. Sitting down, I closed my eyes and fell back into darkness. But the music, oh the beloved music of Tchaikovsky, lifted me up higher and even higher.

Dream Sequence 3

Says who that men are from Mars and women are from Venus? You and I are not only from the same planet, but are also the same specie.

Yes, you and me. Just us. No one else. Despite the fact that we have not met. Despite that you know neither my name, nor my mere existence.

"We are the same specie!" I said to you when you came into my dream last night, and soon studied your baffled reaction. Your face, resembled that of your picture precisely: fair, kind and somewhat melancholy. And your eyes that conveyed so much emotion silenced me instantly.

We Are the same specie. Please take my words for it. I have fallen in love with your writings. Your thoughts are what I accumulate in my head, and your words reverberate in me, pounding in my heart and throbbing in my vein.

At least we met. Even though it was only a dream. I have said what I needed to say, and that is more than enough.