I sure hope oysters are smart. Oyster farm mind.

I don't know what to think. I feel small- that strangely vulnerable feeling in knowing I can't pull out, or pull back because of where I am. I must, I will press on. How much it will cost me I don't know. Mr. Dynamite Stix will help me. My dear, I would ask for a quote on the cost of breaking these walls but I realise you've already paid. In which case, should I not go ahead with the demolitions? Instead, I sit here pretending there is legal work that makes my head ache. There isn't. Can't you see I need you to be more than what i perceive you to be? My mind is so limited. And the truth is that i sit here twiddling my thumbs because I'm scared.

Mr. Encik (as i very ignorantly used to call him) is my local rubbish collector. Mother would run after him going, "Encik, Encik." Naturally, I thought his name to be encik. Laugh, when you've found out what that means. No matter, it has stuck. I love My other Mr. Encik. He is the most humble man, and it was He who came to me. It did not make sense, the things he did, and the way in which he did them. They still do not make sense. In some ways the rubbish collector is a mirror of my mister. mister, and in so many ways he is not. I wish the rubbish collector well, especially for the things he has taught me about my Mr. Encik. And my Mr. Encik, he takes my trash out everyday. He's such a consistent person, such a lovable, smiling figure of perserverence. But most of all, He is the essence of humility in this hat that he wears. For when I remember who He is and what He deserves, i am broken in knowing that he deals with my trash. Such is love. Not I for Him, but Him for me. I still have none to give.