Just a while ago, I looked out of the window. Boy, the clouds are beautiful. Busied myself with things on my desk, looked up and out again, only to see the clouds gone, replaced by a dark night sky. How transient. Come tomorrow, encore it'll be, the clouds will make a reappearance, taking on beauty in another form, in different shapes and shades. I am talking to myself.
What I'm thinking of, just let it flow, one thought leads to another, the little red book sitting quietly under stacks of browning paper, not asking to be picked up, let the memories stay at the back of my head for a while longer, what are memories, dust? from the roads of Laos, a fear of confronting those familiar pages, eeyore sitting in an eeyore tin, yellow crates of beerlao, the guitar singing a night melody, so many eyes on us, rectangle windows, Mango Girl, Star, beef noodles with raw vegetables and peanut sauce,
(random spacings, for easy reading, for easy accesibilty to sorted memories ha!)
a purple handbook grinning with promises of lasting friendships, a vomit bag stuffed to the brim with letters, blueberry-flavored chewing gum, the different types of ambiguity, what matters, proclamations of iloveyous expressed with utmost sincerity, no matter whats, thinking about thinking, too much, too little, a zooming aeroplane iloveyouforever message,
a notebook with the pages harshly torn out, the whirring of the ceiling fan, the hard brown bench pressing on my aching back, multi-colored strings, churning strings like factory workers, four white flowers (fake is good, they won't die, can't die), the whiff of coffee powder, a plastic bag of orange-no-brown flowers, a camel that smells like old cupboards, motorcycle crash course, playing in the rain, happiness derived, falling backwards, getting very wet, a merry-go-round game, the spinning world or is it us that's spinning,
send-off by sabasketeers, one paper plate, five forks, how transparent the glass walls are, it is a good sad thing, synchronized goodbye waves, trolleys and wheels, orange-tagged backpacks, mouth-watering prata heaped with condensed milk, reminiscent of my guilty-fingers-in-fridge-tin childhood days, sharing pizza by the roadside, rum balls, for one more day, sitting outside the toilet reading, lost in my own world with the aching comfort of knowing that there's people out there to return to when I'm done with my doses of solitude,
holding so many hands half the size of mine, I can't remember them all, a shaking heart, a trembling wrist as white threads are gently tied on, pressed with blessings whispered so softly you can't hear them until you bend lower and closer to the sadness in their eyes, tight goodbye hugs here and there, tears at the airport,
boxes of colorful dunkin' donuts, 32, that hokkien jingle, cheap thrills, wondering why the principal doesn't smile, popping pills, (888) leg hairs, a bus window sprinkled with raindrops, misty scenery, cows in the distant landscape, of different shades of brown (what no black-and-white patches), wooden houses on stilts (This is Laos, not New Zealand), never ending bus journeys (as an added measure; TINS!),
the stifling heat, the rain (rockets are working!), fourteen mailboxes in a row, so high, onetwothree jumps for the camera, ham it up for the camera, lemon-honey cough drops for me, plus blackcurrant lozenges in a little Ziploc bag, dirty clothes rolled up, colourful helium balloons against the black night sky (if you look closely its actually dark blue), heart-shaped agar-agar, boiled watermelon cubes in honeydew jelly, dogs that greet you sabaidee with a happy woof,
children repeat after me okay, the sssssss, sing your way home, Hangman, Simon Says, breakfast buffet, trays of food, different kinds of kaya by the side, toilet chit-chat, hiding behind big shades, Mr. Oookay, the flickering candlelight, a voice speaking, hopeful hearts, listening ears, fourteen pairs in all including your own, a fast beating heart of mine, sharing something I've never told my homeland friends, there's this saying: home is where the heart is, don't think about that, how long is this going to be, can I stop now, no I can't help myself,
the deep red walls the colour of the chambers of your heart, a long rectangle table made from smaller square tables, wooden chairs that screech, of what- I don't know, thinking of nothing, a long lost smile I'm hoping to see, I still am, rows of red bricks threatening to grow crooked, a 'male maid' holding up an umbrella, a girl in a rain-filled cylinder washing the mud off herself, what am I writing actually, laughing so hard I can't hear myself,
days unnamed but numbered only up to fourteen, nights too short, reeeeeeeelac, take a chill pill, crayons, children in their birthday suits sliding down the mudbank into the river, crickets at the corner of our plate, sticky rice in a rattan basket, the rippling waves reflected on the straw roof,
statues everywhere, chasing the dragon, an invisible high, with jokes that possibly wouldn't be as funny back in Singapore, chirping 'khop jai ah lek' when we hopped off the sky train, laundry service!, culture shock, washing clothes in the sink, ants in chocolate, squashed bananas, flies circling our food, teaching me that the world doesn't belong to me alone, thank you if you've read this far; if you're not a very bored person, you must be a true friend, sheesh that vaguely sounds like a cliché, the river Mekong, still, thank you really, little hands clasped so tight, countless smiles, shy hands bearing sweet gifts,
cream puffs, banana cake, bottles and bottles of soft drinks, buckets of fast melting ice, oh dear I can't seem to stop, it's like a spell, torture disguised as massage, zero point, bruises everywhere, hipbone ouch, big round watermelons; rows of, chubby baby, bumpy roads, a circle of strangers-turned-friends, tigerhead bottles, red cap of hers, also that cookie monster bag, how long more can I go on, I'm afraid I-, sleeping in my sleeping bag on my bed, puma shoes,
Squigglys so photogenic, Woody Runaway Motel telling me the time, here trying to be as true as possible, not touching the backspace key (well I did), spoonfuls of rice for the boys, anklets and beads, post-itted textbooks, corners of some pages firmly turned down, breaking every stick of chalk I use, chalk dust making me cough,
that paddle pop tune, heaps of cow dung on a big green field against a big blue sky, how small it makes us be, cable tv!, aircon!, heater!, merry drunkards, whooshing rockets, styrofoam fertility, the sweetest ice-cream, if you're still here reading I- , card games, sitting by the roadside, fighting dogs behind me, watching the cars go by, watching the days flash by,
good mornings, toasted bread, this is getting too long, really, photo albums, Polaroid shots, shake it like a Polaroid picture, hey it is, correction: it was, turtle cars, bread massages, little tang yuans, banana fritters, teh tarik, happy birthday party, soaping dishes and pots in front of a leaking tap, keep on keeping on, a long and good dream, elbow scarf, moustache, a bus crossing the river, grass jelly in soy milk, HOT HOT, maybe I'd stop soon,
fallen leaves, the earth beneath my feet, will I always remember, Metta, metal, a box of twelve color pencils, unused to keep them new (some things grow old too fast), silly hand games, the pounding of a pestle on a mortar, roaring on the bedroom floor, leo the lion, what a zoo we are, oh the Singapore zoo t-shirt, purple merlion too (what a boo-boo, people quick queue tell the gahmen!),
a bicycle ride around the school courtyard, signing autographs on outstretched hands, red blossoming flowers, you, me, us, them, him, her, personal pronouns take on a etched dimension, will I never forget, mixing cement, laying tiles, this sudden downpour, if you ask me there's no one significant moment to be singled out, everything is accumulative, picking doesn't do them justice, maybe I'm just bad at choosing and I don't want to admit it, shit I just did,
shouldn't I be watching the black box outside and not rambling on and on, and harmonized laughter, echoes on, earphones plugged in, voices in the background, damn I think I talked too much, a boat lunch, how tranquil, LAO PDR Please Don't Rush and Singapore Please Do Rush, too many commas, commas will run out of commas sometime , yet I don't like full stops
to be continued, or maybe not
What I'm thinking of, just let it flow, one thought leads to another, the little red book sitting quietly under stacks of browning paper, not asking to be picked up, let the memories stay at the back of my head for a while longer, what are memories, dust? from the roads of Laos, a fear of confronting those familiar pages, eeyore sitting in an eeyore tin, yellow crates of beerlao, the guitar singing a night melody, so many eyes on us, rectangle windows, Mango Girl, Star, beef noodles with raw vegetables and peanut sauce,
(random spacings, for easy reading, for easy accesibilty to sorted memories ha!)
a purple handbook grinning with promises of lasting friendships, a vomit bag stuffed to the brim with letters, blueberry-flavored chewing gum, the different types of ambiguity, what matters, proclamations of iloveyous expressed with utmost sincerity, no matter whats, thinking about thinking, too much, too little, a zooming aeroplane iloveyouforever message,
a notebook with the pages harshly torn out, the whirring of the ceiling fan, the hard brown bench pressing on my aching back, multi-colored strings, churning strings like factory workers, four white flowers (fake is good, they won't die, can't die), the whiff of coffee powder, a plastic bag of orange-no-brown flowers, a camel that smells like old cupboards, motorcycle crash course, playing in the rain, happiness derived, falling backwards, getting very wet, a merry-go-round game, the spinning world or is it us that's spinning,
send-off by sabasketeers, one paper plate, five forks, how transparent the glass walls are, it is a good sad thing, synchronized goodbye waves, trolleys and wheels, orange-tagged backpacks, mouth-watering prata heaped with condensed milk, reminiscent of my guilty-fingers-in-fridge-tin childhood days, sharing pizza by the roadside, rum balls, for one more day, sitting outside the toilet reading, lost in my own world with the aching comfort of knowing that there's people out there to return to when I'm done with my doses of solitude,
holding so many hands half the size of mine, I can't remember them all, a shaking heart, a trembling wrist as white threads are gently tied on, pressed with blessings whispered so softly you can't hear them until you bend lower and closer to the sadness in their eyes, tight goodbye hugs here and there, tears at the airport,
boxes of colorful dunkin' donuts, 32, that hokkien jingle, cheap thrills, wondering why the principal doesn't smile, popping pills, (888) leg hairs, a bus window sprinkled with raindrops, misty scenery, cows in the distant landscape, of different shades of brown (what no black-and-white patches), wooden houses on stilts (This is Laos, not New Zealand), never ending bus journeys (as an added measure; TINS!),
the stifling heat, the rain (rockets are working!), fourteen mailboxes in a row, so high, onetwothree jumps for the camera, ham it up for the camera, lemon-honey cough drops for me, plus blackcurrant lozenges in a little Ziploc bag, dirty clothes rolled up, colourful helium balloons against the black night sky (if you look closely its actually dark blue), heart-shaped agar-agar, boiled watermelon cubes in honeydew jelly, dogs that greet you sabaidee with a happy woof,
children repeat after me okay, the sssssss, sing your way home, Hangman, Simon Says, breakfast buffet, trays of food, different kinds of kaya by the side, toilet chit-chat, hiding behind big shades, Mr. Oookay, the flickering candlelight, a voice speaking, hopeful hearts, listening ears, fourteen pairs in all including your own, a fast beating heart of mine, sharing something I've never told my homeland friends, there's this saying: home is where the heart is, don't think about that, how long is this going to be, can I stop now, no I can't help myself,
the deep red walls the colour of the chambers of your heart, a long rectangle table made from smaller square tables, wooden chairs that screech, of what- I don't know, thinking of nothing, a long lost smile I'm hoping to see, I still am, rows of red bricks threatening to grow crooked, a 'male maid' holding up an umbrella, a girl in a rain-filled cylinder washing the mud off herself, what am I writing actually, laughing so hard I can't hear myself,
days unnamed but numbered only up to fourteen, nights too short, reeeeeeeelac, take a chill pill, crayons, children in their birthday suits sliding down the mudbank into the river, crickets at the corner of our plate, sticky rice in a rattan basket, the rippling waves reflected on the straw roof,
statues everywhere, chasing the dragon, an invisible high, with jokes that possibly wouldn't be as funny back in Singapore, chirping 'khop jai ah lek' when we hopped off the sky train, laundry service!, culture shock, washing clothes in the sink, ants in chocolate, squashed bananas, flies circling our food, teaching me that the world doesn't belong to me alone, thank you if you've read this far; if you're not a very bored person, you must be a true friend, sheesh that vaguely sounds like a cliché, the river Mekong, still, thank you really, little hands clasped so tight, countless smiles, shy hands bearing sweet gifts,
cream puffs, banana cake, bottles and bottles of soft drinks, buckets of fast melting ice, oh dear I can't seem to stop, it's like a spell, torture disguised as massage, zero point, bruises everywhere, hipbone ouch, big round watermelons; rows of, chubby baby, bumpy roads, a circle of strangers-turned-friends, tigerhead bottles, red cap of hers, also that cookie monster bag, how long more can I go on, I'm afraid I-, sleeping in my sleeping bag on my bed, puma shoes,
Squigglys so photogenic, Woody Runaway Motel telling me the time, here trying to be as true as possible, not touching the backspace key (well I did), spoonfuls of rice for the boys, anklets and beads, post-itted textbooks, corners of some pages firmly turned down, breaking every stick of chalk I use, chalk dust making me cough,
that paddle pop tune, heaps of cow dung on a big green field against a big blue sky, how small it makes us be, cable tv!, aircon!, heater!, merry drunkards, whooshing rockets, styrofoam fertility, the sweetest ice-cream, if you're still here reading I- , card games, sitting by the roadside, fighting dogs behind me, watching the cars go by, watching the days flash by,
good mornings, toasted bread, this is getting too long, really, photo albums, Polaroid shots, shake it like a Polaroid picture, hey it is, correction: it was, turtle cars, bread massages, little tang yuans, banana fritters, teh tarik, happy birthday party, soaping dishes and pots in front of a leaking tap, keep on keeping on, a long and good dream, elbow scarf, moustache, a bus crossing the river, grass jelly in soy milk, HOT HOT, maybe I'd stop soon,
fallen leaves, the earth beneath my feet, will I always remember, Metta, metal, a box of twelve color pencils, unused to keep them new (some things grow old too fast), silly hand games, the pounding of a pestle on a mortar, roaring on the bedroom floor, leo the lion, what a zoo we are, oh the Singapore zoo t-shirt, purple merlion too (what a boo-boo, people quick queue tell the gahmen!),
a bicycle ride around the school courtyard, signing autographs on outstretched hands, red blossoming flowers, you, me, us, them, him, her, personal pronouns take on a etched dimension, will I never forget, mixing cement, laying tiles, this sudden downpour, if you ask me there's no one significant moment to be singled out, everything is accumulative, picking doesn't do them justice, maybe I'm just bad at choosing and I don't want to admit it, shit I just did,
shouldn't I be watching the black box outside and not rambling on and on, and harmonized laughter, echoes on, earphones plugged in, voices in the background, damn I think I talked too much, a boat lunch, how tranquil, LAO PDR Please Don't Rush and Singapore Please Do Rush, too many commas, commas will run out of commas sometime , yet I don't like full stops
to be continued, or maybe not
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