I have moved. At last.
It's still under development; ongoing thing actually.
And now, Blogger, having given me over 2 years of writing and thinking, will be archived. You will be missed.
Here's the new link!
http://thebaroquelover.wordpress.com/
Everything I write thereafter will be there.
Farewell, Blogger. You've grown too old.
~Me.
P.S. Thanks Graeme and Moses. Difficult decision, but yeah. Fresh start!
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Ok, not really. I just wanted to make it sound dramatic.
Anyways, I thought Blogger is getting old and outmoded, so I'm thinking of change. Yes, Barack Obama. REAL change.
People have been jumping onto the Tumblr and Wordpress bandwagon recently, and I can't help but feel that I need to do the same.
It's a tough decision to make, but I think I can finalise tonight.
Watch this space.~
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The mood was muted. Ambers of red-hot timber and debris lay littered across the scarred, cratered earth. Feet shuffled, people mumbled; some weep, some stand, astonished that they are even alive, albeit covered in gaping orifices and scabs of burnt flesh, let alone in one piece. Bodies lined the bloodied, messy road so high that one could not look over them. The whirr and drone of aircraft engines slowly faded from the cacophony of a dying city.
Had a visitor to the scene arrive three days earlier, he would have seen something different altogether.
Chances are, that visitor would have become part of the gruesome statistic as well.
Then, it was peaceful, something that is completely normal. That is, if it was peacetime. A maniacal Hitler was still clinging to power, or whatever has remained of it. Stalin's troops are charging towards Berlin faster than anybody could have imagined. Nazi Germany was being swallowed whole by the Allies, bar none. And still the Fuhrer grips the red-hot pole of hope, long after it had become hopeless.
1945. That is the year destined to be known as the year Peace finally reigned, but not very many people know the terrible way it got to be so. And an innocuous city was part of that way. It's a beautiful city, no doubt, home to many Baroque structures quite striking to the eye. At first glance it looks nothing like the industrial and military war machine the Allies tout it to be. Unlike Berlin, it had not suffered terribly. In fact, it had hardly been touched since the war began.
One fine evening in February though, Lady Luck made a U-turn. The silence of night was broken by the sound of sirens and later, the characteristic whistle of bombs. Darkness was replaced by a haunting red glow, followed by flaming fireballs from exploded ordnances, as hundreds more fell from the sky like rain. A flood took the city over in its frightening red and yellow hues, frying anyone in its way to a crisp. Those who jumped the flames had the life literally sucked out of them: a firestorm has started. Rescuers attempt to put out the carnage; as they do a hail of explosives blanket the heart of town, dealing damage and death twice over.
Daylight fails to bring any hope of solace. Now that the British bombers have left, the American ones take over, repeating the sorry, sorry state of affairs. As much as survivors want to survive, by the next nightfall such hopes were quelled. More die; more still begin to be disillusioned. Round-the-clock bombing has reduced the city to a shambles.
Now, multiply that over 3 days. It isn't hard to see what has happened.
Dresden has, today, been largely restored to its prewar glory. Little evidence exists of such a terrible event. Still, if you can find it, there are scars the city can never hide. Time heals all? Guess not.
Till then~
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I am late.
But who gives a flip. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
School has begun, and I am pretty happy with things so far. Had so much to do, like (in order):
Life's good; lovely way to start 2011. Let's hope this spirit keeps up for the rest of the year. I want 2011 to be the best year I've had so far.
'Nuff said. Enjoy the festivities, if there are any left, hohoho.
Cheers; till then!~
