"So what is 18 multiplied by 3?"
Wide-eyed, I attempted to fly
Through the intoxicating world of numbers, numbers, numbers
I returned to my awating sanity
After approximately 10 seconds and a blink of an eye
"54!" I proudly said . . .
She kept on asking, inquiring, probing
My biography's elements
She tried to discover my head, my heart, my spirit
My delusions, my pedestals, my nightmares, my fantasies
All dropped on smoothly on immaculate white sheets
Staining it vigorously
(Blood) flowing, flowing, flowing . . .

Then I went back to father and we walked
To his vehicle and we started to spin
In an abyss of circles
Until we reached the abode
of mutton and spicy rice
of colorful sauce and sweet drinks
of chicken and cashew
And how I feasted!
Blinded by an eternity of hues and tastes . . .
I forgot the warnings of Christopher's smile
But Christopher's voice soon rang clear
Certainly father heard it
So he underwent the consequences of
Our little, little, little banquet. . . .

Father brought me to school
Where I let myself drown in responsibilities, duties, obligations!
I (dared not to) have remembered
Every task, task, task
Every challenge, challenge, challenge
Every last bit of agony
That I (rather never) subject myself into
Travesty!

And at dusk I learned
About the departing of a great
Man's soul (and tears escaped my eyes)
He was my total inspiration
And nobody could equal his skills
Unless I achieve my lifelong goal
Of becoming his apprentice!
I mourn, mourn, mourn
For his crimson twilight . . .
(And may they love him as much as I did)

To understand this fully, see Chapter 2 of "Letters to Christopher"