Blogger Party

Thanks to this blog site. Let's begin here a home-buddy writing to help control environment abuse, or in other words, an environment-friendly atmosphere where we can exchange ideas regarding global warming. As we all know, global warming is the greatest threat to our environment. If we ordinary folks - or writers like us - don't do something, what will happen? More floods, typhoons and "Katrinas" will threaten our world. We all know this, but sometimes we are ignorant, tolerant and apathetic.

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What's the difference between a mountain and a hill? You know it, a mountain is higher (or bigger) than a hill. Or we can put it the other way around: a hill is smaller than a mountain. Why do you ask? Why do I ask? That's better. You see, figuratively I always refer my mountain to my life. Yes, many authors refer climbing a mountain to hurdling the life's many tests, inadequacies, suffering, you name it. For many of us who are survivors, reaching the top of the mountain is success in life. But reaching the top, could it not be nearing our end?

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Some pages missing. Events were blurred. There were absences. I was beginning to write my story. I can't remember the details. What kind of a life story is this?

"Let me be a part of you," the murmurings started to tell. I was beginning to rebel. Is this happening? Is this really happening on me.

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World
Prophecies are told in dreams. The Spirit communicates to the mind in a state of semi-consciousness.
An old friend was in haste with people he didn't know, fulfilling a mission, a destination. They were of different races, with smile in their faces, and contentment, with no glimpse of bad feelings and remorse in their appearances.
The run went on, a marathon. Something was pulling them to that point. They were walking on soft soil; their feet were naked. The point beyond was very bright, there was a glaring light of different colors, but the white light was prevalent. Speed increased, a force was pulling them toward it.

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"I was poorly born on the top of a mountain, cherished by the motherly love of the thunder ..." and please continue the correct lyrics... the song that I would love to hear because I imagine my father carried me in his arms as he sang that old, old song used to be sang by old folks and war heroes, or those ordinary people who live in the mountain, the natives who were not schooled but knew how to sing an old English song.

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I'm following up somebody here, now this is what I found. Well, for the few seconds I've been here, and for the few minutes in creating this account, I feel at home. I find the seat comfortable, the air fresh and the scene rather captivating. Anybody say hello, I'll answer hi! I'm just a cute old man from the outside world, and this is blogosphere. Well, blogging isn't really that strange, be

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