Zaw Zaw Aung - Wai Wai Yi Ri

Wai Wai..Ri Ri

Years, months, days, centuries have faded into the mist of past history. The sun, the moon, and the seasons have traveled with time. Sometimes the stream of time is straight. Sometimes it spreads out and spreads out. When the streams of time are fragmented and spread out, they meet and cross each other in many places. Many points of passage also occur. As in the past, as in the past, that place is scattered with time.

The flowers are blooming. The impermanence of this world is not related to snow, nor to snow. The snow was not snow in the past, but the snow is eternal, the flowers are not flowers in the past, but the flowers are blooming in the past. If someone denies the impermanence of the snow, the flowers are blooming, it will be difficult to deny that denial. The snow has melted and the flowers are blooming again? At that time, in that place, between the snow and the flowers, two streams of life intersect. Who would have guessed?

The grass was green. It was probably wet with dew. At the edge of the grass, I could see a black and white pile. I knew immediately that he was very white. His long-sleeved shirt was black, his shirt was black. His face was pale. His hands were white. The soles of his feet were white. The area of ​​skin that was free from the black clothes was white. It was not yellow like milk that had been boiled to a froth. It was very white like milk that had not been boiled. He was holding a piece of paper with his white fingers.

“Hey... here” was the first voice I heard from him. It wasn’t poetic like in novels. It sounded like a superior tone. It sounded like the arrogant tone of someone who had been in a superior position all their lives. Under any circumstances, that tone would be a hateful tone. As novels often say, in a very desirable situation, in a very pleasant situation, those two words would be called in the future, and the two words that would be called would not be known in advance. There was no one nearby. On the other side, I saw a little dog running. Cars were driving on the other side of the road. Far ahead, there was no one under the tower. Are you calling me, are you calling me, are you calling me? He didn’t say anything. I went up to him and looked at him with the meaning of “what?”. He was very pale. He was wearing a black sports shirt that I didn’t know the brand of but seemed expensive, thick and fluffy, Black and white, with a large black flat sandal and strappy sandals. The face, hands, and soles of his feet, which were free from those places, were pale. Among his thin white fingers, at first I thought he was holding a package. In his hand was a little bird, gray, white, black, with red legs, a red beak, a dove.

“Here. . . you take this little pigeon.”

How old is she? I don't know how to guess a girl's age. I don't know her date of birth. But I think she's younger than me. I don't know why. I think she's so young and pale. I don't like the way you use that word. I think it's arrogant and condescending. The words you and I use aren't new. It's something that's common in social circles, especially in people of that age and background. But I still have my doubts.

"What..."

Actually, what is it... is too general to answer. Not very specific. He asked what is it because he saw the pigeon in his hand. Does it mean what is it and what to do? Or does it mean why do you have to take the pigeon? Suddenly he sat down. His movements were quick but very neat. He sat down on the grass, like a cross-legged person. He stretched out his arms and stretched them out. Did the pigeon in his hand move? His eyes, which looked like tiny beads, moved.

"You take it."

"What to do..."

"If you can take it, try it."

I don't want to say anything. I'm so confused. I'm just about to turn around and leave, but I haven't even taken a step yet.

"Hey... stay here."

"What... why should I take it? What does it have to do with me? You idiot.."

I think I've said too much. Her eyes are so beautiful. Her complexion is so pale. I look up. I don't know if she sighed. Her small breasts under her black shirt rose and fell again. She must have sighed. That sigh seemed so beautiful too.

" Here...."

I didn't know in advance how fun those two words were. I didn't know in advance how fun those two words were.

"The pigeon is sick. One of its wings is broken."

"What should I do? I'm not a bird doctor. I'm not a zookeeper."

"I'm sorry... Hey"

"If you have mercy, I'll take you home."

"I'm not at home."

"Then, take me to the school where you are staying..."

"Here... do this?"

I asked him how to do it. He didn't ask. It felt a little strange.

"If you don't want to take that pigeon, kill it. Will you kill it? I won't kill it."

"What. . .

Not only strange but also amazing. A girl as beautiful as a doll, with a pale complexion. She was holding an injured bird. "Kill it..." The voice she shouted was like the voice of someone who was very surprised and angry in a video. It was quite loud.

“One wing is completely broken. The other is also broken. It can’t be repaired at all. A bird can’t fly because of a broken wing. It’s a pity. I don’t want it to suffer that pain… I don’t want it to suffer that pain. It… If it dies, it won’t suffer anymore. It’s best for it… It’s… You kill it.”

I can't say for sure if I found the words to say or not. But I don't know what to say. I stare at him. On the grass wet with snow... sitting cross-legged in a meditative manner. Holding a child gently, I look down at the girl with very fair skin, wearing a black dress, the black dress and the white skin match perfectly, looking down at her.

"To relieve suffering, not to be cruel, to kill with compassion... It's called MERCYKILLING, you know... Killing."

As soon as the words "Kill me" ended, he looked up. It was amazing. He seemed to have tears in his eyes. Were his eyes watery because they were originally bright, or were they tears of sadness as he told him to kill the bird? I wasn't sure. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

"Oh...I...oh, give me..."

He was still stumbling, but then he said, "Give it to me," and reached out.

"You... you, are you going to kill me?"

The position of the throne was pushed back. The hand that was holding the pigeon was moved to the side. It was as if he was avoiding the hand that was reaching out to take it. His eyes were round,

It looked like he was about to snatch the baby pigeon from his hand.

"Oh... I'll kill you." "Oh... I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

The way he spoke, he didn't finish his sentence. He stopped after adding two more words of mercy. "How did it happen... Earlier, it was MERCY KILLING... to get rid of the suffering. . . "

"It's cold... but"

The pigeon's hand hasn't let go yet. The hand that was stretched out to pick it up hasn't withdrawn yet.

"But... I feel sorry for you"

"Well... that's what Einstein said..."

"Hmm...what, what?"

"So Einstein said... women are fickle, fickle...

"Did Einstein really say that? To whom did he say it... Are you sure?"

"Of course... I told Tom Cruise," he chuckled, as if writing a story about a poor novelist. His beautiful eyes, which had previously been filled with tears, now seemed to sparkle with joy.