// lesson from a busker //

a piercing sound greeted me in the MRT underpass.
it was him again, plying his trade in the midst of the endless human traffic.
from the sound of his recorder, you could tell he was blowing very hard, so hard that i could hear very clearly, the creaking sounds made by air going through the gaps in the recorder.

so why was he blowing so hard, as though his life depended on it?

why do some people in another country fight for the release of their political leader?
why are these people fighting for a lost cause?
why do some children learn to read and write when such skills are probably useless in their country?
why are they putting in futile efforts?

what are they fighting for, why do they bother to struggle at all?
where do their passion and conviction originate from?

they believe that once they give their all, success would follow.
i've always admired people who give their 100% in everything they do.
because i cannot.

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finally!
but it was simply customary.
i shouldn't read too much into it.
afterall there are much more impt things for me to think about.