Monday would be the thesis defense, and now I'm doing the final touches to the powerpoint presentation. I'm rummaging through my travel pics, trying to locate something ideal, then I couldn't for the life of me figuring out why on earth I was so mad at them back then. Well, I mean, I know why I was angry, I know exactly what the problem was, but now the issue seemed quite trivial to me. Perhaps it's what most things will appear to be when it's time to leave this world. It doesn't really matter whether it's because the distance or time makes everything more beautiful than they actually were or rearranged in another sequence. I just miss that time a lot and wish that it could end in some other way even though it's impossible. I have, on top of fond remembrances, great remorses.
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