As time went on, Raymond felt that his backpack was pinning him down more eagerly. The heavy burden was pushing his shoulders and wanted to nail him on the ground. There was a strong urge to leave the baggage so that he could walk lighter and further. But there was a tiny whisper behind his ears telling him keeps the baggage no matter what happened. Because his tent was in his backpack, the very one thing that shelter him from the cruel weather and some remaining food to keep him kicking.

        Raymond would raise his tent and sleep in it whenever he felt that his body had totally burnt out. Every time he would sleep with uneasiness, bearing a huge risk that he would not wake up the other day but everyday Raymond would be very grateful to be able to wake up. And he would then praise the God for allowing him to walk the earth again. Then he would take some light breakfast. But whenever Raymond took his bite, he would remember his sledge dogs. Twelve strong they started out with him on this venture but none of them was alive with him now. He was remorse that he needed to slaughter them one by one for his own survival.

        He could still remember the whimpering of the first when he slashed its throat. He could still remember its wet and confused eyes when its red and warm blood was painting the white ground. He could still remember the looks of the other eleven when he carried the first back to cook. Their gaze were curious but shrinking. He could still remember how the first tasted, bitter and guilt just like the others and the breakfast he was having.

        As he was swallowing down his meal, he thought that he was always fond of the artic. He like the cold, the white, the emptiness, the huge land and the ability to bend one’s will. But now all those became what he hated about his dream place and he hated himself to even be there.

        He thought that he could fix himself and understand himself better after this expedition. But all he found was his old self, a butcher for his own survival and a person lost without direction. Raymond was furious about himself, he despised that he could still repeat his hideous corporate self even in this barren place. He was disappointed that such a famous place failed to bend his will.

Why secret has to be so dark? Why secret has to be so painful when it was revealed? Why we have to live with something so destructive?

Life is short, so we have 2 choices:

1. Enjoy life & go all out
2. Treasure life & avoid risk

Which one will you choose?

        Reb lived in the time when computer & typewriter were strangers to its residence. He also belong to the minor group who gone through proper education. Most of the people in his time were poorly educated & they rarely care about what he educated people had to offer. So sometime Reb thought that he was too much for his time because he was equipped with tones of ammo but there was not a battle he could fight in his time. Still Reb wasn’t to let that blocked his way. He was prepared to fight for his right & showed others what he could do.

        Every morning, Reb’s wife would help him to load his cart so that he could push it to the market to start his business. When he got to the market, the other stall owners would help him to set up his booth. Reb was always grateful for their help but they told Reb once that they help him because they respected his determination and believe. Reb was impressed that there are still people who cared about the minor group.

        However, Reb would always forbid others to set up his board for him. Because he believed he has to respect his capability and his role in the fight for the better future. So he would take the board on his own and displayed it beside him while he took his pen and drew on the paper.

        The board was white and written in black. Reb believed it was the best color combination, simple but attractive. People who came to his booth were always attracted by his board and the tidy writing read that:

        People would be awed by his message and his drawing style. Because Reb was holding his drawing pen with his mouth and work on his sheet like a professional artist, turning a white piece into a scene of misty mountain or school of fished swimming freely in the pool. They were impressed by his skill despite of his lost of both arms.

Mom says to son, “You are like a piece of flesh in me which I will do my best to keep around.”

Son says to mom,” You are like a piece of tumor in me which I will do my best to get rid of.”