Sia Figiel Quotes

Is heaven also made in Taiwan? And does Jesus really know how to speak Samoan?

In all, there were ten different types of clouds: cumulus, stratos, cumulonimbus, stratocumulus, nimbostratus, altocumulus, altostratus, cirrocumulus, cirrostratus, and cirrus – each with their own personality: fluffy, detached, transparent, thin, continuous, gray, heavy, dense, semi-transparent, and layered, which I use to describe my own moods and feelings at any given time.

Perhaps it was an accident, I told myself. Perhaps he didn’t mean to expose himself to me deliberately. But then again, wasn’t he the very same person who told our class that there were no accidents or coincidences? That every action we make creates a ripple in the universe which meant that all actions are interconnected?

I didn’t realize that Saturday morning that I was going to embark on a similar voyage of my own. A life-changing journey that began when my mother asked me to drop everything and go to Apia on an errand. An errand that would take me into a strange new world where the rules of civilization as we know it were instinctively abandoned and forgotten until the full weight of its reality glared and glared and glared into my eyes, almost blinding me. I’m talking about the forbidden world of incest. The final frontier. However, my journey was not to benefit mankind or anyone else, only the exploration and ultimate fulfillment of my own seventeen-and-a-half-year-old curiosities and desires, and those of the one I came to call Night, who was my brother and my lover.

Perplexed, I tried to avert his gaze and the piercing effect it had, not only on my own eyes but on my entire body. What is happening?

Not only was I embarrassed, frankly, I became offended, not to mention deeply ashamed. A nervousness entered my body and I thought for a moment that I was going to cry. After all, I had never seen that part of a grown man’s anatomy, and I suddenly found myself thinking about all the males in my family.

Vāve mai i le fāle, my mother said vehemently. Hurry home. She took a drag from a cigarette and walked towards the sewing machine. Her workplace and altar of worship. Before she sat down, she picked up a pair of scissors and pointed them towards me. Ma fa`apāku i luga lē gā ulu. Kāo ia, fa`akogu so`o. And how many times do I need to tell you to wrap your hair up in a bun before you leave this house? I could just bake you in an oven!

I clung to the image of my brothers and their friends for safety as I now felt uncomfortable with Mr. Viliamu.