While my housemates are all resting in bed still, at precisely 7:20 on a Sunday morning, sitting in the dark corridor, trying to search for free wireless connections, I started to hum songs from quite a while back, the memory of the past. The melodies brought me back to the time where I was struggling though certain things, friends, crushes, horrible experience, and of course, sweet little incidents.
A large portion of me changed within that particular moment of time til now. I was involved with a very ambiguous relationship, or I should say friendship, with a person. We shared lots of intimate, or not really, moments. Going on bus trips and getting stuck on the way to search for the best lemon tarts in a small town. Sharing a tub of strawberry sorbet while sitting in front of a 15-inch laptop to watch the stupidest romantic movie. Sitting on metal egress stairs to have veggie burgers and seasoned fries. Walking along the riverside to look for and to feed swimming fishies. Wandering in downtown to look for a spark of light from the mini firework stick, trying to find the last moment of time.
The air felt dense. Nuit-blanche went by. The city got back to its usual deadness. We did not miss the inter-town bus that gets us home in the suburbs. We slept as quiet as still water. But then she left. To the far far away London.
Will the red double-deck bus still operate as if nothing had changed? Will it run faster or slower than the green cab beside it? Will it break out of its route that runs in a routine and set itself free one day?
2009/11/01
A large portion of me changed within that particular moment of time til now. I was involved with a very ambiguous relationship, or I should say friendship, with a person. We shared lots of intimate, or not really, moments. Going on bus trips and getting stuck on the way to search for the best lemon tarts in a small town. Sharing a tub of strawberry sorbet while sitting in front of a 15-inch laptop to watch the stupidest romantic movie. Sitting on metal egress stairs to have veggie burgers and seasoned fries. Walking along the riverside to look for and to feed swimming fishies. Wandering in downtown to look for a spark of light from the mini firework stick, trying to find the last moment of time.
The air felt dense. Nuit-blanche went by. The city got back to its usual deadness. We did not miss the inter-town bus that gets us home in the suburbs. We slept as quiet as still water. But then she left. To the far far away London.
Will the red double-deck bus still operate as if nothing had changed? Will it run faster or slower than the green cab beside it? Will it break out of its route that runs in a routine and set itself free one day?
2009/11/01
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