flickr returns to ust.
A Second Look At Being Fernando Torres While other people wake up to a fresh cup of coffee I recently acquired a nasty habit of turning on my PC to log in to my facebook account to see what the world had turned into while I was in slumber land. However, August 19 will prove to be ill-fated for me. As I was readying for a few laps around UST grandstand at 5:00 a.m. I logged in to my facebook account. But it didn’t obliged and instead a red colored text informing me my account has been deactivated for the reason that the user was sporting false identity. I thought this was just a mistake. So I retried entering my email address and password. The same response displayed itself. Of course this elicited distress on my part which only after doing an eight lap jog around the grandstand was able to dissipate. I could not understand why I am being accused of fraud. I assumed because I have the same name as the Spanish football player. But I have been using the name in all my records and transaction for 40 years that is quite a long time for me to be orchestrating a malicious and fiendish scheme of defrauding anyone else or maligning the Spanish player who is my junior. So, I wrote facebook to reactivate my account but a respond was emailed back telling me that I broke a rule on posting. I’m thinking, I never posted a nude or lurid photo of myself or anyone else on my facebook account. So, maybe this is not my offense. Then probably the reason was that my posting was construed as maligning individual or encouraging hate. However, if they (whoever in the facebook responsible for deactivating my account) read my post and compared them with those of other accounts mine will pale. Then again I suppose they don’t read as in monitor private accounts, I believe that is invasion of privacy which is against the law. Then there is the possibility some “concerned” citizen who read my post got offended and took it upon himself to punish me by reporting my account as fraudulent. Thus my account was unceremoniously and without due process got deactivated. To that sorry person, I pity him. He couldn’t handle free expression and public scrutiny of personalities he worship that he resort to immature means of getting back at me. I once encountered a person in facebook, someone whom I am not even “friends” with but somehow managed to get access to my post. It happened that my comment on his favorite presidentiable did not fell to his liking and therefore offended him. Maybe having my account deactivated is his way of obtaining his peace with the world. Another suspect is probably one of the fans of the Spanish football player I refuse to accept as friends. Well, I have my reason. I don’t want to share bed (figuratively speaking of course) with my tukayo. Anyway Fernando (the other one) does not answer back to your post, believe me I tried. So, don’t raise hell about it by making my account as the hell spawned. Now I am feeling like I have been struck with nature’s wrath. the little pleasure I have was left devastated to the ground. I am currently reconstructing my connection to the world with the insight that I can’t be too liberal in expressing my thoughts in my private account which kind of make me ask why have a private account at all when I couldn’t actually express my thoughts in it. Whoever that caused of this temporary distress and misery you will find out your world is a lot smaller than you think because you have a smaller brain. I had an idea that maybe suing facebook could earn me not only money but also world recognition. Maybe even gets me the chance to meet the Spanish football player in person as my case will attract international attention. I can feign being discriminated, robbed of my identity and distressed which resulted to incapacitation. But then who needs all those stuff which I could garnered after winning the class suit. Wasn’t it enough that I am able to think and share my thoughts even though it was curtailed compared with what I could have been once about 5 million years ago when all I could do with my thoughts is only to use it to react on impulse or instinctively on threat and hunger. I could not think at all. Thinking is dangerous that is why it is suppressed most of the time.
I woke up in the morning and just before I take my first cup of Milo I check on my facebook account. ho and behold my account has been deactivated. I don’t know whether because I happen to be Fernando Torres (also) and somebody reported by account as malicious. then again it seem some one got offended with my post since one probably reason for the deactivation is maligning someone directly. As in Willie Revillame, Manny Villar, who else at UST. So this is enough to deactivate my account? Oh well that means rich people are exempted from the public scrutiny which they construe as maligning their good name. whatever.
From the diary of a former bum
Tuesday, April 22, 1997 At home (where else?)
It is almost a month now since I officially concluded my undergraduate studies (again). Officially too, I have no official status (again) except perhaps for (very) professionally unemployed, PAL (as in palamunin or Professional but Absent of Livelihood), and my favorite moniker of all bum. I can also be called economically displaced or occupationally challenged. Well no matter what proper term must be contrived to refer to a person like me, the fact remains that I have no job. And no amount of ear or sound polishing or image dishwashing can change the stigma attached to that status. Presently, I am getting a little bit impatient waiting for response to my job applications, but not because insecurities is beginning to bite my ego (although I do get a dose of those once in a while). It is just that people are starting to close in on me with their curious and concern look right in their eyes every time I am seen not sporting job hunting attire. I feel a certain weight coming down on me. As if their stares and that famous line of theirs, “ where did you applied now”, are turning into huge boulder. I am sinking deeper and deeper into the quagmire of unsolicited affection. Of course they have all the reasons to be concerned about. I have already over stayed in college. They don’t very much welcome the idea of me making for the world’s record for holding the longest residence in undergraduate course. I have squandered much of my parents’ coffer not to mention their patience. I even indulged on my friends’ generosity. I’m literally picking everyone’s pocket so that I could sustain my illusion that one can walk the earth completely naked except for certain principles or ideals which up to now I am still working out what is it all about. So what can I expect? I could only bow down my head and walk humbly. After all, I am the beneficiary of their generosity. I could have chosen to swallow my pride and rush with the gush toward the mainstream. But how could one shed off like snake’s skin certain principles that have ingrained and ingested like some intestinal parasites that have already germinated and became endemic in the bloodstream long before such germ of principles are diagnosed to be lethal? I am unemployed at the moment simply because no company would like to take in a 27 year old who had had not any working experience. 27 it seems is already too old to learn the trick of the trade. Too old to let that person begin a life in a company for he is far too dangerous to employ for he has already imbibed too much ideas and developed his own mindset that he might upset the company’s own agenda. When the truth is I feel 27 is the beginning of my prime. I feel I am more eager to learn and absorb things that maybe important in the performance of the job better. I feel I can relate each task at hand to the bigger picture or purpose which is what often is forgotten by many in their daily grind. Oh, yes, I’m indeed impatient, only impatient to show what I can give and contribute. So, gimme a break, please!
There was a time I use to hate my name. It is too…I don’t know how to describe it. Artista –ish as in FPJ, Dindo Fernando and Jose Fernando. Too local. Too unimaginative. In school whenever my classmate Maritess Temple sings the Abba song “Fernando” I blush in shame. I never simply got use to being called Fernando.
I thought Robert was more suited name for me. Why Robert? Maybe it has something to do with me seeing a lot of “Great Taste” coffee commercial endorsed by Robert Arevalo a TV personality who look like Secretary Butch Abad when I was a kid.
I don’t have a nickname derived from Fernando which I can use to skirt being called Fernando. Fernan is too effeminate. We (my close buddies in college) invented Eptee as in F.T. but it fizzled out. My cousins called me Pando likewise it never really stuck beyond our backyard. Whether in school or with my “kada” I am usually called instead by my surname. My mom refers to me when talking to my sisters as “Kuya”. As in “Tawagin mo na kuya mo”. I remember a teacher of ours way back in high school by the name Ms. Moron (it’s true, that is her name, I think she’s married now with our other teacher - the true moron) prefers to call me Ferdinand a derivative of Fernando which mean, peaceful and courageous.
My father’s mother’s maiden name is Fernando. Thus making us related with Ading Fernando a director/actor/comedian in the 1960s and 1970s and his sister Dely Atay Atay another comedian. Acting and being a comedian probably does runs in our blood. Only I probably donated so much of it that the above never manifested. If my Father was named Fernando instead of Augusto, how would he felt being called Fernando Fernando just as the movie actor Bernardo Bernardo and councilor Justo Justo?
So, all throughout my growing years I completely forgot about being Fernando. I am Torres to everyone until Ken or Kenny or Khen became my new name. I started learning about Fernando Amorsolo, Fernando Maramag and other Fernando’s who made valuable impact in various disciplines. Maybe there’s really something to it being Fernando (can you hear the drums Fernando?).
Then one evening I learn that there was actually somebody else with the same name I have. This truly galvanized the idea that being Fernando Torres is not such a bad idea after all. It began when I ordered a Machiatto at Starbucks at Ermita. As I approached the counter to order my coffee, two baristas manning the counter were talking about a Fernando Torres. I was of course awestruck for what I thought of being recognized by two people I can’t place where I met. So, I flashed my biggest smile, thinking maybe I can fake my way into making them believe I also recognized them. But they suddenly felt confused and kind of felt scared at my sudden shift from haggard looking into a beaming person. They probably were expecting I will be hugging them in a short while. Then amidst those electrifying seconds of silence, I realized I wasn’t the one the two baristas were speaking of. So I resume to my earlier composure and said my name is Fernando Torres and I awkwardly showed them my credit card. Realizing another awkward gesture, I offered to have my coffee be paid in credit card. That is when I got curious about this other guy who is going around using my name. He is probably dating women under my name. Then ho and behold I finally met this other Fernando Torres. Not in person though rather through FIFA. He is a soccer player and I am a sucker for buying jersey of the Spanish team for two thousand bucks to impress the saleslady with my name being similar with the football player. But apparently she doesn’t recognize the player. I promised her I will not add her in my facebook account.
Siguro tama si ____ self-centered na tao ako Ewan ko kung malalim ang pagkakakilalaniya sa akin basta ang alam ko lang natumbok niya yung hindi ko makita. Ang akala ko nama’y natural lang na pagtumingin ka sa litrato ay unang mong hahanapin ang mukha mo. Kung maganda ba ang ngit o natakpan ka na naman ng katabi o sinungayan ka ng nagpapatawa mong kakilala o kagalit. Kaya ganun ako. Sarili lagi ang hinahanap sa litrato. Pero hindi lang pala sa pagtingin ng litrato ako nagiging self centered. Lahat naman ng ginagawa ko ay para sa magandang bukas. Mabuti na yung may napag-ipunan bago lumagay sa tahimik Ayaw ko kasi yung sasabak sa pag-aasawa e pang-kasal na gastusin pa lang inuutang pa sa magulang. Kaso makikipagkilala pa lang pagaasawa na yung binibira mo. Masyado fast forward ka namang mag-isip Pustahan tayo kahit pangalan man lang di mo makukuha. Brigitte, Brigette ang pangalan. Pangalan lang pala e. Hindi dahil mahalaga sa akin yun pera katunayan ang dali-dali kong gastusin ang pera basta may katuturan ang pagkakagastusan Kanginong katuturan? Nagtataka ka pa kung bakit parang walang kabuluhan ang buhay mo e wala ka namang ginagawa maliban lang sa trabaho mo. Kahit birthday ng mahal mo sa buhay mas ninanais mo pang mag-babad sa trabaho mo. Pirmeng “may assignment ako” o “may-shoot ako” ang bulalas ng bibig mo. Lagi ko naman kasi kasama ang pamilya ko. Ang mga assignments pabugso-bugso lang parang ulan. Minsan meron, minsan parang summer vacation. You told me you get to see the bigger world through your lens. Does that mean you get closer to the world you see? Bakit parang detach ka masyado sa mga photo mo? Voyeurism di ba ang proper term sa panghihimasok mo sa daigdig with your lens? I am just being objective. I don’t feel any empathy. Wala sa akin yung chop chop na katawan o nasunog na tao. Sa akin they are just subjects. What I crave is the action of taking photographs. Yung rush when I am chasing after a subject then getting it inside the frame of my camera. Click. Click. Click. Minsan sa isa kong assignment I was so bored. Dahil walang nang yayaring excitement. Mangyari kasing nagsawa na yung mga tao sa kaka-sigaw at pangbubuska. Tsaka napagod na rin sa kaka-anticipate sa pagdating ng mga hanay ng anti-Erap para buwagin yung barikada ng mga pro-Erap sa harap ng Mendiola. Antok na ako at may mga tatlong shot na natitira sa camera bago ako mag-load ng bagong film. Kaya ginawa ko binuyo ko yung crowd. Sabi ko nabalitaan ko na parating na yung kaaway nila kasama yung mga pulis na kumampi na rin sa mga nagrerebeldeng tao laban kay Presidente Erap. Sakto namang naputol bigla yung ilaw sa entablado at sa mga poste. May katagalan na rin hindi dumarating yung inaasahan nilang suporta mula sa Caloocan at Nueva Ecija. Yung mga lider nila naglaho parang yung pagkaing nung una ay umaapaw mula sa mga politiko. Nag-umpisa muling maging restless yung mga tao. Lumabas samu’t saring mga expressions at emotion. Click…Click…Click
“Oh yes, I believe in the existence of our rare species, we who love to read for reading’s own sake. For us, reading is a sacred activity and we create our own sanctuary in any place we can read…” Sipping a 12 oz. Café Vanilla at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf at the third level of the newly opened Trinoma, I read a piece at “Read” Magazine by a self professed bookworm. The writer, a lawyer by profession, described how in her fit of want to read, she usually frequented different cafes and sometimes goes far as to book a room out of town simply to read her precious treasured books. As soon as she’s racing her eyes on the pages she soon finds herself oblivious to the world at large. Sometimes when it is raining, only the lovely sight of droplets of rain struggling to cling on the glass window surface intrude those meditative moments and reminds her of her attachment to this world. I don’t know what psychic link she and I - or with those of others who love to spent time reading books for that manner, have but somehow what ails her also ails me. I think it’s love, love for reading or the act of reading. Even the mere act of holding a book. The smell of a new book. The feel of the surface of the page. I couldn’t pass the day without sneaking a peak on the pages of whatever book I am currently engaged with and like a predatory wild cat which hoist its catch on top of a tree, I had to tug this book or books along with me at the nearest café in order to devour it there. Usually slowly. I am not always in a hurry. I read like a cigarette smoke unfurling. If other resort to reciting the decades of the rosary, doing yoga or playing intense sport, mine is reading book with a coffee in tow inside café. I couldn’t remember how I managed to acquire this habit of reading in cafes. I would only surmise, since I learned that cafes like Starbucks are generous in offering their abode as haven for refugees from the real world like me just a little longer hour than their usual frequenters. For me there is something about reading inside the café that completes the act of escaping your usual humdrum of living. Threw in a waffling scent of coffee bean being brewed, soft music playing in the background, occasional people conversing and yes, a little rain drumming outside perhaps, complete my take off from this planet and into an ideal world. I always suppose in books reading books are always associated with café. By the time I leave the café, my soul is refreshed, my outlook is refined and a hundred bucks poorer – a little cost for my cost for a true living allowance. Reading for me may be akin to a cheap one night stand. I read not to fall in love with the one being caress at the moment. Rather simply to enjoy the moment. Gorge if both money and time allows. That’s why as a bibliophile I am not an encyclopedic person you might expect. I tend to forget details like the characters names, how the story ended and sometimes even the whole plot, much to my regret. But so too some details of my life I tend to forget. Names I can’t place. Nostalgic eerie feeling suddenly brought out by certain music. I guess, the details do not matter at all in the whole scheme of thing. Just like numbers of a public utility bus that no one endeavors to remember. It’s their getting to the destination what count most. So, I guess, so long as what that story meant for the reader managed to seep in, mold the person’s outlook and contributes to getting to one’s life destination, its job is done. What one reads my end up obliterated in the memory. Some curious souls ask me about how many books I own. Honestly, I haven’t got a faintest idea, thought it seems like I have about a thousand. This includes books left unreturned from friends I lend to. Although it felt like I have given away a kid of mine, I like to think that I shared a piece of my soul instead. Those books given away are like seeds that will sprout into a forest of experiences. In time this planted forest in human soul might absorb all the negative carbon dioxide like vibes of this world and well people like me won’t have to escape into books. The next obvious question raised is whether I have read all of my booty. I can’t say I even read a quarter of it. It’s like asking me if I have breathed in all the oxygen of this world. My collection of books is one living organism that has taken a life of its own. It is nourished by my curiosity. Its life is connected with mine in such a way that I believe that if ever I manage to read all of it in the end, it would also be my end. That’s why I take caution not to read all of my books especially in one sitting. My coffee is beginning to tell the tale that it’s almost time for me place a bookmarker on the next couple of page. Soon I will be stretching my legs and begin hiking again. It’s a little pass 3:00 o’clock in the afternoon and the sun is still beating hot on the skin if I stayed outdoor too long. Perhaps a visit at UCC at the Block and sample its coffee would by me some more time to let the sun ease a little bit. A little more time for me to race to few more pages of Tim Flannery’s, “The Weather Maker: The History and Future of Climate Change”.
Imagine a bottle with liquid inside. A stopper or cap prevents the liquid from spilling out. What do you think the bottle represents? What does the cap or stopper represents? How about the liquid, what is it? This is one of the key in understanding LOST. The liquid represents a form of energy that is presented as light. This light has both potential for good and evil. However, if the liquid spill out of the bottle or the light the island keeps escapes, it will extinguish the rest of the world with it. The stopper is the island where the whole series revolves around. To prevent the light from getting out or being released, the island/source chooses a guardian to protect the source from being found and tampered with. In the series the earliest known guardian of the source of light was a woman name Claudia, whose origin was never revealed. When she got wind of that her time is soon to end she passed the baton to Jacob one of the twins that Claudia brought up when their mother which was brought in by the island was murdered after giving birth to the twins. For some reason the island draws people towards it, probably to probe deep into the heart of man. The island seems to have been inhabited by people from various times. The earliest period may have gone as far back as the Egyptian period as evidenced by the statue of Goddess Taweret. Jacob’s twin brother who was never named but identified in the online forum as Man In Black, was probably being probed by the island by playing up with his doubts about his real origin. As a result he became enamored with getting out of the island. It is like Anakin being tempted by the dark side. To further fan the flame of doubt the island may have deliberately made him aware that he does not belong to the island by making him and his brother Jacob see other people in the island. Thus the darker nature inside him grew further. One day the ghost of the woman who gave birth to Jacob and the Man In Black appeared to the latter. She confirmed Jacob’s brother’s suspicion that Claudia was not their real mother. They were sons of people who came from across the sea. That Claudia murdered their true mother. This finally what made the Man In Black leave and live with the other people in the island. Years later as adult Jacob visited his brother and learned that his brother was able to find a way to tap to the source. The Man In Black wanted to make constructive use of the source for the benefit of mankind in the same manner Prometheus wanted to share fire with man. But this was thwarted but led to the eventual demise of Claudia. Out of anger for Claudia’s death, Jacob threw his brother into the source. This transformed the Man In Black into the black smoke. The black smoke is the more concrete although tempered manifestation of the evil that the source may have contain in. The body of the Man In Black was recovered and was interned at the cave along with the body of Claudia. The skeleton found in the cave by Jack in season 1 that they came to call, “Adam and Eve” was Claudia’s and Jacob’s brother’s. The black smoke still assumes the identity of the Man In Black. Perhaps the island’s evil manifestation is using the Man In Black’s desire to get out of the island to actually commit the ultimate evil, that is to destroy the world once it escape the island. This desire to leave the island became the overriding purpose of the black smoke which means that in order to accomplish this, the Man In Black/Black smoke has to get rid of Jacob. A task he cannot do it himself. The island mandated that both Jacob and his brother cannot kill each other directly. The only way that each could be killed by the other is when somebody else not chosen by the island would do it. Jacob and his brother continue to see and talk to each other. Much like God continue to speak with Satan. They even play the same game they played when they were still young. In one of this game they made a bet to each other. Jacob following perhaps the island’s innate property of probing into the heart of man wanted to prove that man is really good. His brother who for awhile lived with people and has an inkling of man’s heart disagreed and wanted to prove otherwise. All the while both brothers have an altogether different agenda behind the bet. Jacob felt that his time is about to expire and therefore desire to seek a successor. His brother on the other hand saw an opportunity in the coming of people in the island of possibility of killing Jacob. Thus Jacob caused the lives of completely strangers to intertwine and end up together in the island. How did Jacob came to select these candidate was never explain. The numbers 4 8 15 16 23 42 that keeps recurring all throughout the show represents the candidates 4- John Locke, 8 Hugo “Hurley” Reyes, 15- James “Sawyer” Ford, 16 Sayid Jarrah, 23 – Jack Shephard and 42 Kwon. This shows that the above were already chosen. Christian Sheppard in the last episode of season 6 mentioned that the Losties were flawed. Perhaps it is indeed actually destiny calling Jack and his fellow Losties to bring into conclusion perhaps the issue between Jacob and his sibling. I would even compare it with the same manner that the Bible seems so sure that Satan will eventually lose in the end. In 1867 one of the earlier people to be drawn to the island was Richard Alpert. He came by the ship Black Rose in a surge that destroyed the Egyptian statue leaving behind only its left foot. The black smoke instructed Richard to stab Jacob in return for his wife’s return to the world of the living. But Jacob was able to talk some sense to Richard and turn him into his spokesman and leader of Jacob’s people drawn to the island. From then on Richard never grew older. He worked with various island inhabitants to make them co-protector of the island until a suitable candidate is found to replace Jacob. Among these people are the people when Charles Widmore was with the Others in 1954 and the Hostiles of Dharma Initiative time in the 1970’s and the Other’s after the purge in 1992 where Benjamin Linus became its leader. In another level LOST is also about individual’s struggle to let go of his personal baggage that is weighing him down and preventing him to move on to the next level of existence. In this manner LOST echoes MATRIX where in people only take as reality what is after all was really a dream world. The experience of the Losties in the island is an experience that will wake them up and have them take the pill that will enable them to face themselves and win the fight. The flash sideway experience is what would have happened if they continue to live in their dream world or Limbo. They would just continue to go on and on repeating the same scenario unless something would make the individual Losties realized that this has happened before and then begin to wake up. This is what the anomaly of Desmond has done in the flash sideway. He made it possible for the Losties to remember and want to move on to the next level. In the last episode which was a very touching scene the cast were gathered together and are finally resolved to move on to the next level. Christian Shephard mentioned that although each of the Losties died in various times it is just only now that they are all moving to the next life after Jack has finally awaken. Michael was not among them because of what he did in the island to Libby and Ana Lucia. Ben Linus did not join the Losties to move on which might signify that he is still not resolved and the island might still be influencing his dark nature. In his dream world he might even have wrestled with Hurley the guardianship of the island and therefore might have actually caused the death of Hurley. The other aspect of the Lost series where left unexplained or unanswered for they only serve as layering like the onion skin. They don’t need to be fully explained for what is important is the core. Some will say but the onion’s core is simply nothing. But still the onion was able to provide flavor isn’t. Lost gave us reason to ponder about the life here and the hereafter.
Maganda yung movie na pinagbidahan nila Brad Pitt at Cate Blanchett, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”. It talks quite a lot about dying. Since Benjamin lives in a home for the aged, he constantly encounters death when, every now and then, people around him succumbs to old age. He himself from the time of his birth is in constant watch for his time to expire believing he is also old as his companions were. I learned to appreciate why we are perpetually reminded of our tenuous hold to life especially with the news of death of our contemporaries. It is to make us not to be too complacent into thinking we will be here forever. Our politicians seem to think they’re bunch of immortals, that’s why they live like today will continue until tomorrow forever and so they rob like there’s no tomorrow. I am looking at the things I have now and all of a sudden, I begin to realize I have so many luggage. Can I live without my baggage? What will happen if fire consumed my room and along with them are the things I labored all my life to acquire and made to feel complete? Will I live after what I thought defines me vanishes? Each day is a blessing, because it is an opportunity to understand a little of our purpose for existing. An opportunity to love someone and be loved back. An opportunity to remember the best days of our lives. Every pain that we feel or likewise remember are, in a way, should be taken as opportunity to realize that the very reason we are able to remember or feel the pain is because we have already overcome the last one and we are just looking at the past pain from the precipice as victor. In case the pain we feel at the moment prove to be even more painful, then isn’t now the right time to reminisce how it felt before, that moment just when we finally overcome a particular pain in the past. I tried to remember the feeling perhaps a second or minute after I just recovered consciously from a nasty headache, from a fever after sweating it out, from a flu, or a hangover. That’s the “Quantum of Solace”. That’s the moment of comfort feeling however, short it is when savored and relived seems to last forever. When flowers bloom they seized the very moment To capture the sun To display its ephemeral beauty meant really for fornication And replication Unintentionally the bloom adds color to the drab earth The moment the bloom seized the moment When you arrived into our lives You never thought that the strings of stories, experiences and simple smiles We had with you To the random skies of our lives would form a miniature constellation would have a name and this sketch that stretched the sky would be looked upon every night we really knew you only from bits of chances you’re orbiting nears us for some we sooner forget you the moment you sunset from our sight for others you curved deep ravine with the weathered experiences shared but all our impressions of you would be made more brilliant, now that we’ll notice the empty gap in the formation of our constellation your passing will be like a nebulae. We are seeing how beautiful you are from the past’s concoction and burst reminding us that the most precious moments of our lives are always short for they are meant to be cherished longer not while it last at the present but from a distance and will continue to be so even on the dark skies of our lives for in that state there are no pain that can’t be bare, no broken that can’t be made whole and most of all we’re eternally in our youth. You are flower that seized the moment under the sun You bloom into our lives Now you planted a seed in our heart