The beautiful among us do not have it wasted upon their faces, to be fed upon by lustful eyes, to be faded by the ravaged of time and age. They impart theirs differently,weaving it within their words and actions to enrich minds and hearts,to which time the great destroyer of feebleness,  is compelled to aid its greatness through memory.

If they raise buildings and statues in his memory, a man is deemed great. A far greater act however that honours a man’s legacy, is not the raising of buildings or statues, but often overlooked is instead it is the raising of beings, children who are bestowed with his name. A living legacy, raised properly their good thoughts and actions not only serve to honour his memory but add to it as well, unlike arts and architecture who merely testify to it.

To write is to achieve immortality, for words are unlike flesh are not ravaged by time, unchained from the bonds of time and location. In writing a man may speak across the centuries, across continents. He frees himself from this world, by ensuring that something is left behind.

Home

Something thats been on my mind recently and its been bothering me, is the amount of people that talk shit about Brampton. Yeah its not perfect, but is home. The 19 year old me, being young and rebellious also hated it, fuck this place, was my attitude towards Brampton.. So I left for another city. I went to study criminology and then human rights, but what I feel in the 5 years there, the most important thing learned was what separates a place from a home. A place is defined by location, buildings, tangible things that can be measured. A home however is not defined by those things, rather its by feelings and memories, things that cannot be measured, yet real all the same. To me in the end, Brantford became merely a place, Brampton was Home. And it how it could not be? First friends, first love, first jobs, first achievements all happened here, from here. Its not just me, but for a lot of people who grew up up in this city. It is home. This city has a lot of newcomers, filled with hopes and dreams. For some that is a problem, to hell with them. For the immigrants too Brampton, it too will become home, filled with memories and feelings not to unlike us. Many generations from now when places like Jalandhar, Ludhiana, Hoshiarpur or Amritsar have long since faded from memory, when people ask our descendents where there their families are from, perhaps they will say Brampton. For them too it was a home. I mean if anyone talks shit about Brampton being in it, its because they see it as a place, not a home.

It is a fool who seeks to build a monument for the greatest of his ancestors, for all he had to do was witness his own reflection, he was their greatest memory, a living one. He bore their likeness in a way no statue or painting ever would, carried their legacy within his own veins. His every action in good faith would testify to their magnificence that no historical account could quantify.