And should our paths never cross again, let this be the testament to the time we have spent together, let our cries into the night sky be heard for evermore. As we pass on to that other side, let our time here have meant something to every one of us, that we leave an unforgettable impression on the path we travel.
If this should be our last stand, may our light be eclipsed by the moon, reflected back to the stars in an endless gaze upon ourselves. Tonight, so bright. Speak to me breathe, bring me back to Evermore, to those reckless days and endless nights.
When the possibility of this adventure first came to mind, I set out to graduate first in my class. One year later, that goal remains a reality. On Monday I accepted an academic scholarship from the director of the law school.
Perhaps these things are suppose to happen, an American attorney competing against the Chinese. But this award wasn't about academic performance; it wasn't for the Four Days of the Condor. I have shaped this law school into the image I have chosen for it, and for one moment, the shouts and applause from the crowd, they paid me back in full for what I had done. This gweilo, this outsider, having built a law school by himself.
Transition yourself to the top of a mountain, where you and me belong. A perfect mind. A perfect body. A perfect soul. There is an idea of a James McLaughlin, and that idea needed to take on a certain appearance. Suffice to say, that idea has come to light. After months of atoning for perfection, this is who I have become.
Forty-six schools. Sixteen countries. Over five hundred foreigners descending upon the world I know, and once again I found myself in charge of the whole damned thing. The fourth annual Vis East moot arbitration competition came to my first year law school, and they turned to me, the lawyer, the American, the king of the jungle...they came to me to put on a show by the likes no one would ever forget.
In the past few months, there have been times where I couldn't sleep. As these affairs would have it, I was not allowed to sleep. Nothing would get done without my approval. From dusk till dawn and back again. Clockwise: Rain, Ryan, Elodie, Jay, Cherry, Jason.
The moot arbitration boys from around the world. Two Indians, a Swede and the American, riding on the top deck of a junk boat from Lamma Island back to the main island, the city glowing on the horizon, a long way from anyplace we could call home.
About this time of year our lives always begin to move a little faster, and we begin our descent out of control. This is our vacation; it could never be our reality. And yet I catch myself holding on to these moments, trying to control this freefall to the end of our days. Our stories are moving too fast, intersecting with each other at an uncontrollable rate. Nothing is static. Everything is falling, everything is falling apart. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No comments:
Post a Comment