The other day, I was strolling in the community park.

It was a depressing day. And by “day,” I’m not referring to its weather, but the activities and heartaches that I suffered just on that day.

Perhaps it was one of those really, really depessing days that only come every 5 years or so – something big enough to get your life all twisted in the wrong way.

Well, I took the grass way in the community park.

Maybe over the past years, I’ve gotten too used to the hustle and bustle of contemporary life, that I totally forgot what it meant to be ‘free’ in thought. I haven’t written a poem in nearly 10 years, and I haven’t cried for a soul. (except in two movies for some reason: Hotel Rwanda and Up)

Well, the grass route in the park showed me something quite clear: From far away, it’s fresh, green grass. When I walked over it, I realized that the grass had different colors: the old were darker, but there were new sprung grass, baby grass that would make up quite some portion. It was clear that one was new, one was old, but somehow, they coexisted to reveal just ‘green’ grass. But what stunned me was – how on earth (haha) did they spring up? And inbetween them lied little dandelions – how on earth did they get stuck in there? And for the first time, such irregularities seemed like regularities, and how their coexistance seemed just too beautiful – too emotional that I could not help but stop. I stood still over a hill of grass, only to realize not one human was visible, and how I wished at that moment the world seemed to love me.

Now, if nature could do such things, wouldn’t we as humans, the greatest of all living things – what is there that we CAN’T do?

Welcome everyone, to my world of marketing, where I believe that nothing can be more effective than touching the human side of things. Forget your homework, your projects, your iPods and iPhones, your boss, your next vacation – come join an honest, down-to-earth discussion of the human side of brand marketing.

(Thanks for reading my First blog post)

more