notes again

Last week, I sat and took my usual customary bus ride home. The lush green sat across and untouched, detached from the strewn of industrial complexes, and in stark wondrous view - the serene water body of Pandan Reservoir. The setting sun flushed and washed the reservoir with strewn of red, orange and purple and I had felt so much peace and desire to run again, to become lost in the paths coasting along the edges of the reservoir. I desired to escape momentary life and to forget again. Its funny, I was reading this novel by a Singaporean writer - Kappa Quartet. His vernacular grabbed and tousled me for I had confusing and paradoxical thoughts on it. Casting those aside, I had empathised with the first guy’s wife - her whims to disappear and to return again. The soul is a fragile place and two worlds in; I must have lost mine to a kappa.

The days strolling through New York recalled a sadder time but a necessary time. I no longer yearn for the combed pavements of New York but I yearn for the aimless girl then - frivolous and wishy-washy with her desires, unable to quell her mousey voice and spirit into molded clay. She was welcome and unwelcome and her ever-changing want to belong was inspiring. New York is a commuter town. It has nothing but skyscraper buildings and gentrified lofts and demarcated ethnic enclaves and mindless subway cabins - shipping and transporting commuters to and fro. Every year, people come and go yearning to make a carving out of this city and having their heart and soul crushed by its endless Sisyphean rocks. Purpose was easy to imagine, you just had to conjure it hard enough in your mind & heart.  The nights were hot and dry from its emptiness. Then again, Singapore, you are your own child: unrelenting, always blameless and so fixed in your ways and yet supple in your embrace of foreigners and people.  But I don’t miss her for I am sated in droid weight. I have my loved ones and it’s so easy to belong back here. This safety bubble is so easy to fall back into. Every summery day, I dream of winters and towns full of ghost but there & here again, everywhere I go I am in a town full of ghosts.