The library chair. A sturdy hack of processed cheap timber compromised to an even cheaper budget. Ergonomically unsound, its fond identification as a ‘chair’ by the masses has tricked many into its trappings. Soon enough, I too was hashed by this ultimate deception. Its shapely edges began to stab almost decisively as I place my buttocks and back on and against its polished planks.Before long, its blunt corners nudge deep into my flabby flesh. Cholesterol dampens none of its tight thrust into the surrounding meat, especially those around my hips. Yet in between pressured backs and pressed bottoms, the mind was pulled deep into the most elegant of intellectual frolics. A hard cover was placed on the soft wood table top in front of me. My literate self was ready for anything with a secured Romanised footing. If not the alphabet song and the calling out of individual synonyms in sequence would do fine as a guide. Claims and critism alike were jolted down with a touch of Indian ink, printed on pieces of modern papyrus that were sewn together as a slab of data known as the book. My eyes bare witness to their boastful assertions as my vision suffers only from a mere case of terminal short sightedness. Short distances, such as that from the kornea to a book, are still competent. I took it all in a go. The sentences. The words. The letters. Yet, something was amiss. A hollowed aftertaste, similar to those emotions after an orgasmic-less love or in a man’s lust was felt. Then it hit. The coalescing of intelligent scribbling makes no sense! Just like poetry, it was explicitly implicit! It flowed, my flawed cognitive as it stutters amid abstracts. Concepts seem alien, what more their degrees of affiliation! The iceberg bears none, except for its tip. 'Yang tersirat' in metaphors, imagery, antropomorphisms and the likes were hidden under the deep blue artic sea, jealously guarding the secrets of unscrupluous academic blabber. In an attempt at gathering some hope, I begin to discern, to unravel a pattern of thought for a more systematic method of understanding. The colluded mechanisms of the theoretical universe surely must allow a peep for the humble eye. As it turns out, the mysterious workings of the mind, well at least mine’s, hark on simplicity and a five second attention span. Thus from the former the only direct course of action would be to tediously deduce and to fragmentise ideas to understandable components. What a brilliant plan! My ego was restored! I took it in a stash, only to realize later after a series of applications that the latter ensues for surrender in the end. A slight strain was felt. In order to relieve it, the torso was tilted upward. The spine, stiff from a prolonged pose, was finally relieved from the bow noticed during long readings. A crackle was heard. The sound of air gushing out from relieved pockets released much accumulated stress. to be continued...