HOÀNG-ÂN:  Purple Ambience

9:50 p.m. Friday, October 3rd, 2025:  Let the thoughts come.  Bleeding slowly and gradually.  A core of intense pain melts words of deep healing.  I wish for wholeness:  sorrow and joy; pain and happiness; mundane and depth; banality and meaningfulness; ugliness and beauty; evil and good.  It's hard to accept both after a lifetime of sacrificing for virtue.

With old age pain and discomfort yield complaints and negativity.  The fruit is humility coming from helplessness afore the inevitability of physical decay.  But futility is all I see in the young.  Busying chasing after the definition of how much is enough.  Ripening into the wisdom of old age is the overpowering attractiveness of each wrinkle.  The deadly charm of gracefulness in each step of shaking knees.  In the slowness of each deliberate movement; in the twinkle of a glance likely marking a humorous happening: a vessel that holds secrets intriguing the viewers.  Like shadows dancing with a flame, heart grows young like red of blood and orange of fire.  Master of deception, the ancestor suggests the magical hints like that of an illusionist performing.

It is still dusk now.  Purple haze engulfs the horizon.  Soon, very soon, it will behold the moving touching secrets of twilight.