Today was one of the finest days I’ve had in a while. Nostalgia just takes you by surprise at times – I was deliberating upon my attending this gathering (or not) but it so happened that I went. It feels like time just flew by me. I like the visuality of this metaphor. A wind, nameless and rushing. There is something comforting about existing within a cliche: that way, you feel like your experiences are cushioned by some sense of the collective.
There is something about group portraits that keeps getting at me, somehow. Immortality is ridiculous.
Unrelatedly: I am not eating at Plaza Singapore until next year, if I can help it. And I am becoming more and more enamoured of Sticky Rice. Go my bank account!
moth at busstop
so long there is no waiting
you martyr, of this place
coming and going so long
you have flown and never tired of the light,
here
o have you come to comfort me
the embarrassment, of waiting
the seat is warm with the scent of my body
a posture, struck into dreaming
you come to the light
you know, you know,
the rain clouds gathering, potent
under your wings i know you are keeping
the light, for winter in this city
of late buses and lonely hearts
