If you would have asked me 8 weeks ago about how I would spend my time in Singapore, you'd be met with a bright enthusiastic reply with a subtle epidermal wariness. I look out of the glass wall of my apartment- a place I have grown to calling home. I see the same faces in office everyday, the usual pulling a fast one by my boss and the intolerable arrogance of my neighbour. I have become used to wearing a shirt and trousers for the better part of the day, and the leather shoes don't hurt anymore.
Eight weeks- an insignificant interval in the history of man, a major period in my life's history. It was yesterday that I set foot in 1208, and in about a fortnight, my footsteps will vanish from these carpeted floors forever. Is it fleeting- existence? I think not. I believe it is but natural that people come and go- and that footsteps are erased so as to make the path a joy of discovery for someone else. If time stopped, and people remained, wouldn't life become moribund? It flows, and let it.
I have to thank a lot of people, appreciate them for teaching me things and reprimand them for being callous at times. You tend to condone everyone at the fag end, it takes a lot to hold malice in the left corner of your torso. It is this nature of mine, and yours, that makes us human. That proves that coagulation is festering, and thus, move on.
It's a dull Saturday afternoon, and I am still under layers of coverings in bed. I want to get going for the day, but the present is painfully blissful. A fortnight, which I know is going to vanish in a snap.
I am readying my fingers, just hear the sound- will you?
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