About Jia Chin's blog

Ever noticed that Jia Chin writes regularly about death and such? Ill try to do a post about that topic right now.

The old man hated life more than ever. When was it? When did he actually have silence? When was he able to reflect and recount on his past experiences? When was he ever alone? He thought of a plain meadow, wind, sunshine and above all , silence. He would be happy there. He dreamed of the scenery, the perfectness of it all. However, every few seconds, a loud horn, a sudden shout, a police car wailing, all these would snap him out of his own universe. That was it. After 10 years of slowly detioriating health and state of mind and tolerating such noises, he decided to make a choice. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. After 10 horrible years of hearing the ugliness of the human toungue, every shout, every argument, every insult as an act of viciousness, he had enough. His heartbeat became more rapid. I would end all the suffering. His already frail body was shaking. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. He was already dying. Somehow, he mustered the strength to sit up and look at the photo of him at a farm in Austrailia. It was so carefree, so silent. He was happy. Then, something in his heart broke. He flopped back onto the bed. He saw a glimpse of how happy he would be in the farm, in the meadow with peace and quiet. There was a instinctive struggle for life. He had... to .. go there one more... time...to experience the feeling again...
The old man died happy, in his bed in his apartment. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. That day, he grasped it in his hand. The old man hated life more than ever. Now, he had total silence.