What now? . . . . I could stay here with you

I'm thoroughly depressed. How can you watch House, MD season 4 finale and not feel such way, after all the previous arcs that carry the same theme. Words and deeds. His actions have consequences, regardless of how he indirectly causes it and refuses to acknowledge it. After Jack Moriarty. A bullet in his stomach didn't make him see it. After Tritter. The troubles that occured didn't make him see it. But has he finally grasp it?

He's the most human, the most honest in this episode, and that last bits of scenes in the end pretty much seals it. Holmes and Watson will never be the same. Can't wait for the next season.

Ahhh drama la kau.

Now I'm gonna need the song from that last scene pula. Sounds like Iron & Wine but I'm not sure.

Today my youngest sister, Setan #5 is sitting for her first paper for UPSR. Resilient little thing, all the best, Nett~!

Okay found it. Ahhah, I knew it's Iron & Wine. If you want it, right-click and save link.

Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone