As a sign of homage for the late president, government flags will be flown at half-mast today.
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Anticipation feels like that patient ticking of a clock. It sounds of a train passing by your stop. It looks like a million pictures all shaped together into a human-like creature. It smells like a classic movie scene about Nana's Homemade Pie. It tastes like the plastic of your pen as you chew on it, waiting for class to be over.
It is truly something. Not defined, yet everywhere. Not meaningless, yet treated as if it has not a statement to please. Its weird, anticipation. It feels like the word itself is a world of its own. Yet, it is simply a letter in a alphabet of manmade print made to simply communicate with one another.
