Monday, October 30, 2017

With The Wind

It was last year that I suggested to Hoon Loon that we should gather his verses which he has been posting on the FaceBook into a printed book. I shared with him the joy of writing and publishing. At that time, he was hiding in his home recuperating and thinking through his life; he had a stroke which paralysed half of his body. Writing gives him inspiration and a sense of being, perhaps at his low point, one would ask the same question: What is Life?  What are we doing here on earth? Where am I going? Well, we have plenty of answers, but they seem too remote to be useful at the moment, he was trapped in his immobility and frustration. Writing gives one a sense of releasing his thoughts and emotions, which perhaps is all there is required for the purpose of life.
In September, I gathered all his verses from the Facebook and select them for this book. It was a joy to read and reread them in the quiet night and designing the book. Perhaps it was my early acquaintance with printing that gives me the joy in designing books, posters, and postcards. My dad worked in the press and he often brought me to his workplace, I would watch paste-up artists, photographers, offset printers, all working hard at their desks or operating the huge machinery. I went through the desktop revolution and see work scope being replaced and retrenchment. Lives had to change and we made changes. Hoon Loon too has to make changes. Laozi said what goes up has to come down, paralleling the Bell curve.

A verse from Hoon Loon
you can stay here
with your common sense
tonight,
i am soaring to the moon
with my nonsense.







We are proud of the book and we had a great chat yesterday. Listening to his description of tubes intruding into his nose and throat, reminded me of a good friend Regu, who refused to be intruded and was strapped onto his hospital bed. I felt disgusted at the ways humans are treated like robots.


Order Book Here

Here are more verses from Hoon Loon

I am glad
It’s full moon
I am glad
It’s crescent moon
I am glad
It’s no moon
I am just glad
That gladness
Was not borrow.
here is another

Quietly
The leaves
Falling,
Taste of
The intangible.