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In a 2004 talk at the European Gradate School, Derrida again discusses “forgiveness” – for him “pure forgiveness” can only be given by a “singular, irreplaceable person” to another singularity (it cannot emanate from a government) and involves two possibilities: forgiving the person who wronged another or forgiving that person’s wrongful acts … pure forgiveness concerns our ability to forgive the other even when that individual has not repented, asked for forgiveness or acknowledged responsibility – Derrida calls this type of forgiveness “impossible” – but, the only forgiveness “worthy of the name” … customary (or conditional) forgiving, involving exchange – that the other, for example, acknowledges wrongdoing – is not true forgiveness … for Derrida, we must “forgive the unforgivable” – we have to allow the (that) “other” in me, not my usual self governed by reciprocity, to actually bestow proper forgiveness …http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuL6HlLSzyc

Am I forgiven for who I am?

Or what I did?

What is my mode of being?
What is it that, without it, makes my being somewhat blur? or lukewarm?
Is it thinking? is it talking? or writing? or working? or even sleeping?
I’m confused.
Is my being necessary here?
I can be and I can be not.
Either way, I should choose to being.
While accept my unnecessary of being.

I feel that I’m not only a stranger among the crowd, but I might as well be a stranger among people I close to.

Someone say that your world is how you perceive it.

Then I think the world is a totally strange place for me.

Though it consists of good people and bad ones

charming ones and ugly ones.

Not too forget the generous and the sincere ones. And those who are mean and conceited.

But somehow I feel all of them are strangers to me, as I am to them.

me: “I believe penguins can fly”