Love, Love.

My obsession of Mimes has never set an end to the many precise dreams of becoming one. I believe it started quite early on during my childhood (there, the setting of my imagination being a lady of the past century). My mom has always mentioned Mr. Chaplin in my days of trotting along her. I have never got the chance to see him in action, though somehow he was (and is) always close to my heart. Seeing him in some of the old film, where the people in the film itself was watching him. That was the only source of inspiration I did ever received from him. Nonetheless, it has not stop me from yearning.

Then I carried on expanding my love for names such as Jean-Gaspard Debureau, Marcel Marceau and the other chap who's name somehow was erased from my box. I had always believed, that one day, I would be loved as one of these amazing artists.

Quite remarkable that my mom fully supported me in my hopes of joining the Club but I still cannot find any that would really help in boosting my luck in such area.

Guess it will always be another number that will never really be cross. Sadly, I have other weird things that I still aching to pursue. Like trying to sound much older by writing rubbish on the net. That is exactly what happen when you wish you had any relatives with World War's stories.

And still, many turns to the art of getting along with philosophical minds.

Tough Luck.