Two kinds of people inhabit the Earth: humans and shadows. I fall into the latter. Technically, I have never exposed myself to sunshine, for someone of larger importance always outshines me. Nor do I have ready access to other fellow shadows, who confine themselves to following their masters anywhere and anytime, and thus can barely make themselves visible. I wander and wonder ── why such a shadow like me should share some living space under the sun? I do not doubt the value of life? I doubt the meaning of my existence. If life means no more than decades of years, I would say for the past three decades I’ve lived a “life,” but if life means more than what time can measure, I have to confess that I flunk my subject of life. Poor me! The light bulb in my head keeps going on, urging me to make a turnaround. Shadows have no choice, so I know very well that the moment I sense the need to choose, I am not one any more. I need sunshine. I need to be seen.
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