Saturday, 29 September 2012
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
i walk past a child squatting a metre from cartier, his parents whistle him on as a pool of urine slowly coat the pavement around him.
what the fu— i mean, welcome to TST.
i come here mostly to develop film and eat fried chicken. this is one of those 'always-a-buzz' places, one you definitely avoid if you hate life. my favourite way to arrive is on a ferry, where i know i am graced with 5-8 minutes of my own personal space before my surroundings envelope and swallow me whole.
people spill over the zebra lines at every pedestrian crossing, and though it never smells as pungent as mongkok or china, there are scents every few hundred yards that can penetrate through your imagination. some i can only describe as, 'WHUT'.
there is the walk of stars or stars walk or something to do with stars which i have never walked because i would rather jump into the water a few feet away. there are museums that are some of the worst museums i have ever been too (government budget is definitely all going into reclaiming land and developing transport). i guess it could be a shopper's paradise but we all know that is just an incorrect anagram for my nightmare.
i recently chanced upon this view though, from a random balcony hosting some lost/tired mainlanders located on the second floor of harbour city.
if you need your mind cleared it is a nice place to sit, or you could take a self-portrait with the view — may require setting up the frame and running downstairs in 30 seconds.
proceed to celebrate this feat with some takoyaki from the nearest food court.
Friday, 7 September 2012
he has short frizzy hair that feels like the rough green side of a sponge, it would tickle my palm whenever i brushed his head with my hand. his skin—a beautiful olive that could be best described as 'free from hardship or troubles or fried food'. he never slept, and when i saw him during the day he never dozed off either.
one time during summer's blistering heat, we were indoors. the blinds were shut and the only light filtering in was from the door ajar leading to the living room. he laid there on the bed while i sat on the floor. i knew he wanted to kiss me so i wasn't making eye contact, and every time quietness crept on us i would make some nonsensical comment, 'my favourite vegetable is eggplant but really it's a fruit, all my favourite vegetables are fruits so you could just say i really like fruits,' i would blurt out. he usually laughed to humour me.
i was fiddling with the hem of my skirt when a sudden halt came into the conversation. i said without much thought, 'look at the side of this skirt, the seam is torn', it was a long skirt and i handed him the tail for show. he took two sides of the tear in either hand and flinched his grip, i immediately snatched my skirt back while voicing a panicking whine, 'noooooo!'.
like a room with the air suddenly sucked out, he paused and looked at me, i held his stare unable to read his eyes, seemingly wandering in mine. his lips curled into a smile and he smacked his forehead with both hands, 'you thought i was going to rip your skirt?'
the tension eased in my shoulders, 'yes?' then in my defense added in more detail than he had asked, 'you held it as if you were ready to rip this all the way to my thigh'. he shook his head and said 'sorry' through a few disbelieving chuckles. i blushed but the room was too dim to catch any colour in my cheeks. we sat in silence for a long time after, minds wondering.
later, while in a taxi with his friends, not knowing me any better, he says 'i love you'. i coax a smile, thinking about it.
'you love everyone though,' i respond a few minutes later, as if i knew him.
barely a few weeks pass, and he really, actually, truly falls in love with another girl, and she falls in love with him too. every now and then i think about them, like today.
not that i know them well, to me they are just names on a piece of paper, no graphs, no illustrations, no stories for me to read. but they fell in love in an interesting place and lead a — if not interesting, at least not mediocre — life.
i guess that's what i'm thinking about today, a 'not mediocre' life.