The insides of the bag lay themselves across the immaculately cleaned
floor, just in time for loud-music originating from a closely placed radio
to die out.
"That was Ca……. *SWITCH*"
The metal studded gloves lowered themselves; the bruising was something Jin had become use to, be it in the inside or the outside, it was temporal side affect of the daily release of emotion. The silver of the metal, turned a burning umber slowly and the hooded figure turned, to witnesses the spectacle of a textbook Australian sunset, overwhelming for a second, as it reflects itself from the thousands of windows escalating from the massive building surrounding the small dojo, before fizzling itself out.
"You done with that?" the voice came from behind, but he already knew, it was the cleaner. After a few months they had a casual acceptance of each other, Jin didn't even bother to turn around to answer, rather, using one or two words of his limited vocabulary to reply,
"Yes",
Being home-schooled most of his life, Jin had to rely solely on what he had picked up in the past few months, which about ranged from "Yes, No and thank you", wasn't too much of a problem through. The real problem was getting adjusted to living in a city. After living without civilisation for so long. The hardest part was nature had all but forgotten the city. But, then there was nothing to remind him of his mother, the love they both share for nature and everything he was going against, it gave him the chance to re-invent himself completely.
The youth turned to collect the tools she would need for his cleaning job,
"Why the hell *is you always destroying those things, maybe you should get sumethin' you can't break" she began to wave her hand in direction of a door, "Well, then you know by now its closing time.....", but she was alone, "why is he always doing that..."
_____________________________
He'd originally left for Brisbane, over a year ago. It was to relive a holiday he had with his family when he was a very small child, to regain what little happiness he could and perhaps to get his bearings after the **"flight", but after a while it had become a home, even through he knew very little of the native language. Didn't matter through money can speak any language and the money he had inherited from his mother had seen to that.
The walk home always gave time for him to think over his problems.
He had come to the conclusion of many things in his life. Firstly the many things about his mother. He thought he had known her once. But her strength was that of ten times what he had imagined. Every time he saw the sunset, he was reminded of this. It like she, was an amazing light that existed in his world for a second before it was extinguished, except that every night he got an encore of the moment that the sun set, but he only had his memories to relive his precious time with his mother. And more importantly a flash of light was shone upon the darkness that was Mishima clan. He had to accept that he wasn't the result of a love cut down in its prime, as his mother had told him every time as a child he had asked for his father. But rather something he saw to be as dirty, a product of a temporal lust of an evil man.
He had come to hate himself.
He had rejected the name of Mishima and as the last to carry the name of Kazama it was his lonely work to avenge his mother and the act that had brought him about. Then to finally end the cycle by removing himself from the picture.
But he's thinking too much now.........
"In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?"
The Tyger
Songs of Experience
William Blake
(One of my heroes and also one of the first hippies, 120 years before his time.)
* "is", it is deliberate. Call it lack of writing talent but it is meant to be an accent.
** "flight". See end of Tekken 3 videos.
(Sorry about the spelling in the earlier version it was the spell checker from my word, it goes a bit strange).
"That was Ca……. *SWITCH*"
The metal studded gloves lowered themselves; the bruising was something Jin had become use to, be it in the inside or the outside, it was temporal side affect of the daily release of emotion. The silver of the metal, turned a burning umber slowly and the hooded figure turned, to witnesses the spectacle of a textbook Australian sunset, overwhelming for a second, as it reflects itself from the thousands of windows escalating from the massive building surrounding the small dojo, before fizzling itself out.
"You done with that?" the voice came from behind, but he already knew, it was the cleaner. After a few months they had a casual acceptance of each other, Jin didn't even bother to turn around to answer, rather, using one or two words of his limited vocabulary to reply,
"Yes",
Being home-schooled most of his life, Jin had to rely solely on what he had picked up in the past few months, which about ranged from "Yes, No and thank you", wasn't too much of a problem through. The real problem was getting adjusted to living in a city. After living without civilisation for so long. The hardest part was nature had all but forgotten the city. But, then there was nothing to remind him of his mother, the love they both share for nature and everything he was going against, it gave him the chance to re-invent himself completely.
The youth turned to collect the tools she would need for his cleaning job,
"Why the hell *is you always destroying those things, maybe you should get sumethin' you can't break" she began to wave her hand in direction of a door, "Well, then you know by now its closing time.....", but she was alone, "why is he always doing that..."
_____________________________
He'd originally left for Brisbane, over a year ago. It was to relive a holiday he had with his family when he was a very small child, to regain what little happiness he could and perhaps to get his bearings after the **"flight", but after a while it had become a home, even through he knew very little of the native language. Didn't matter through money can speak any language and the money he had inherited from his mother had seen to that.
The walk home always gave time for him to think over his problems.
He had come to the conclusion of many things in his life. Firstly the many things about his mother. He thought he had known her once. But her strength was that of ten times what he had imagined. Every time he saw the sunset, he was reminded of this. It like she, was an amazing light that existed in his world for a second before it was extinguished, except that every night he got an encore of the moment that the sun set, but he only had his memories to relive his precious time with his mother. And more importantly a flash of light was shone upon the darkness that was Mishima clan. He had to accept that he wasn't the result of a love cut down in its prime, as his mother had told him every time as a child he had asked for his father. But rather something he saw to be as dirty, a product of a temporal lust of an evil man.
He had come to hate himself.
He had rejected the name of Mishima and as the last to carry the name of Kazama it was his lonely work to avenge his mother and the act that had brought him about. Then to finally end the cycle by removing himself from the picture.
But he's thinking too much now.........
"In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?"
The Tyger
Songs of Experience
William Blake
(One of my heroes and also one of the first hippies, 120 years before his time.)
* "is", it is deliberate. Call it lack of writing talent but it is meant to be an accent.
** "flight". See end of Tekken 3 videos.
(Sorry about the spelling in the earlier version it was the spell checker from my word, it goes a bit strange).