Time,Again

Before we met, you showed me your diary.

I must confess that I am still confused by this sequence of events, as, I imagine, you must be confused by my decision to leave your life so suddenly. I've gone over everything in my head time and time again and I can't shake the feeling that, somehow, everything got mixed up. Though this may seem a flimsy reason to you, it is reason enough for me. I don't understand, so I'm going to leave.

Before we met, you showed me your diary and then we were having sex on the wooden floor of your living room. I still remember the way the plants filtered the sunlight and the sound of the tea kettle building up steam. Then our son was at the foot of the bed, asking me where you'd gone.

"I don't know," I told him, "I expect she'll be back soon."

Today I went into your study and found that you'd converted it into a gallery. The first photo of every roll of film we'd ever had developed was there, somewhere. I found that I could date every one, even the ones that hadn't happened yet. They seemed to go on forever, a jumbled mess of happy memories, each one partially obscured by blinding white light. I knocked over a jar full of tacks but when I went to pick them up I was overcome with vertigo and I had to leave.

We were making desperate love in your basement when you told me about spacetime. You said that the future is just as real as the past. You told me that just because you aren't there yet doesn't mean it isn't real. You said it was like Baghdad still being real when you're in London. You talked about personal time and light cones and folding space and I didn't understand anything except the way that your breasts moved and the way your breath misted in the cold. Then we were on a roller coaster and you were screaming and you said, "This is what it's going to be like all the time." A balloon seller lost hold of his wares and they floated majestically into the sky. It was beautiful.

After you introduced yourself, we resumed our date and I asked you again why you'd chosen a drive-in. You told me that you had a special soft spot in your heart for B-movies. You said that there was something endearing about the earnestness of it all. You said that they called out to our imaginations in a way that big budget films can no longer achieve. You said that all science fiction - no matter how dismal - was optimistic in that it assumed that there would be a future at all. We were in a board room and you were explaining to the assembled group of investors about the Machine. They were smiling and nodding. They didn't really understand but experts had told them that your idea showed promise and, after all, a war was on. The coffee tasted terrible and I kept fidgeting in my seat. You were radiant. No one thought to ask what would happen if the Machine broke.
< 2 >

Today, I watched an egg assemble itself on the kitchen floor. It made a strange popping noise as the last bit of eggshell attached itself. It flew into the air up and up and then came to rest on the counter. A helicopter roared overhead and our son came in and told me he was scared. I didn't know what to tell him. The war has begun and no one can say how or when it will end.

I remember your reaction when you read this letter. I remember how the last line, where I say "we weren't meant to live like this," brought a tear to your eye and you turned to our son and tried to explain to him that I was gone. But how could you explain? What does 'gone' mean to a child his age? Then we were lying together under the stars and when the first fireworks went off, you leaned over and kissed me for the first time. You tasted like popcorn. I can't blame you for choosing a new husband.

When you finally came back, you were younger. That was the hardest for both of us, I think. We didn't share the same memories anymore. You held me and told me that it would be alright, that you had hardly changed but I think that we both know now that that wasn't true at all. Time changed people. That's how it worked.

Today, I went down to the basement and stared at the Machine. I can still remember the day you turn it on. You'll stand in front of a crowd of reporters with our son and your new husband at your side and you'll give your speech about the tyranny of time and death and the triumph of science and about setting us free. But inside, you'll be thinking, "I wish he had been here to see this." I know this because, before we met, you showed me your diary and you wrote about this day. How could you not? It was the most important day of your life. You saved us from the enemy and ended the war. You asked me to stop it. There's nothing I can do. The future is just as real as the past. There is no before or after anymore. Because of you, there never was.

We weren't meant to live like this.

The End

Sanam Chan Pavilion

The Sanam Chan Pavilion is situated to the west of Amarinthara Winichai Mahaisanya Phimarn Throne Hall in front of the Phra That Monthien Buddha Image Hall King Rama ll had the palace constructed for his leisure and for occasionally receiving officilas in audience.

It is small wooden pavilion with a tiled roof adorned with cho far bai raka and hang hong painted with lacquer gilded and decorated with glass. The gables are decorated with thai folwer designs covered with gold leaf on a white glass background. The four columns and roof overhangs are made of square-cut wood carved and decorated. The platform inside the building is lacquer gilded and decorated with glass. The ceiling are made of planks which are decorates with flower patterns believed to be King Rama ll's own work. King Rama ll constructed the Sanam Chan Pavilion and subsequent monarchs have used it to house Krueang thong Yai for lighting the candles and joss sticks used when worshipping the relics of King Rama l at Phra That Monthien Buddha Image Hall located to the south of Sanam Chan Pavilion. the present monarch ha dthe foundation strengthened and covered with mable in 1963..

The Grand Palace

The Grand Palace is surrounded by Sanam Luang to the west, Sanam Chai to the east, Maharaj Road to the west and thy Wang road to the south.

The white painted walls of the Grand Palace are constructed of bricks and motar. There are a total of 17 forts, or battlements built atop the walls. A portion of the east wall forms the lower part of eastern wall of the Sutthiwararam Prasat throne Hall.

The Palace is divided into four areas, namely:

The Outer Zone, situaredat the front of the palace on the northern side, is where various government offices and situated including those for military officials,civil official, the harbor department and the royal treasury.

The Middle Zone, situated at the center of the palace, where the Phra Mahaprasat and Phra Ratchamonthien are located, was until 1925 the residence of the king, the queen, the prince, the princces, the royal concubines, ladies in waiting and female officials.

The Inner Zone, at the rear of the Grand Palace includes the buildings where member of the royal family androyal attendents, as well as princes under 13 years of age used to reside.

Sanam Chai is small lawn within the walls of Grand Palace situated on the eastern side in front of Sala Sahathai Samakom and near the wallsof the Emerald Buddha Temple located to the north.

The Temple of the Emerald Buddha, is a royal temple situated within the Grand Palace in accordance with ancient tradition.

Sanam Luang(Phra Meru Ground), located outside the walls of the Grand Palace and to its front, was copied from Ayutthaya and is used for various royal ceremonies.

The Grand Palace was the residence of the kings, queen,prince, princess, ladies-in-waiting and officials from 1783 until 1925.

Compose by Sirawit Prompet

I play Trumpet........

The Gift of the Magi

by O.Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it.

Della finished her cry and attend to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dullyat a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard.

Tomorrow would be Christmas Day,and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with the result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are.

Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour She had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling-something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

Suddenly Della whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown water. It reached below her knee and make itself almost the garment for her. And then she did it upagain nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while the tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket ; on went her old brown hat. With a whirlof skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes. She fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read:"Mde.Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair" said Madame. ''Take her hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it"

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars" said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him.

When Della reached homeher intoxication gave waya little to prudence and reason.

"If Jim doesn't kill me" she said to herself, ''before he takes the second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do- -oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"

At 7 O'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops. The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious.

his eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply starred at her fixedly with tha peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling" she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grow awfully fast. Say'Merry Christmas 'Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice--what a beautiful, nice gift I have got for you. "

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I? "

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della, "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone,too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numberred," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chop on, Jim?"

Out of his trance jim seemed quickly to wake. He drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake. Dell"he said."about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy ; and then. alas! a quick feminine change to hyserical tears and wails.

For there lay The combs--the set of combs, side and back. that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window.

Beautiful combs.pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautifulvanished hair. They were expensive combs , she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the covered adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at lengh she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say"My hair grows so far, Jim"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me the watch. I want to see how it look on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled

"Dell," said he. "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. i sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chop on"

The End