Time races at the speed of light, pops in and out of existence like one of those electrons.
and all of a sudden, I'm grasping at what cannot be grasped. Trying to clutch at this immaterial thing called time. Inexorable, intangible, a concept and a reality.
While my anxiety kicks in, my sadness takes me by the hand. I'm pumped with adrenaline and sedated, all at the same time. Like alcohol. An accelerant seeming depressant.
I will never see the beautiful smile and khol rimmed eyes, cocktail umbrella tucked behind one ear in wild bouffant hair. and I will never see the tea-cosy beanie firmly planted on wispy stringy blonde hair. I will never hear politically incorrect insults jokingly yelled at me in words that would have been strung together like a script on Dawson's Creek- by the hippie character from the Joey end of the tracks with the seth cohen quips. Or hear lyrical mandarin muttered in my ear saying the meanest thing about the meanest people, the voice belonging to a girl with a great shoe collection, and a spark in her eyes that speaks of untamable fire, like a wild horse.
and I realise that for 6 months, I will not see the two beautiful and proud owners of Ketchup, with their equally beautiful and proud fuel-related children. the ammendable, gentle, sweet, intelligent Diesel may not remember me. Amber will be needy. Ash will be sad, her mop hair hanging over her eyes, looking for all the world like a little lost schoolgirl. Six months their dads will be in London, being barista, in Spain staring at the serpentine Goya bench, the cathedral. Living in a real Spanish Apartment.
and where am I? Across the many seas. While they are leaving on their jet planes, I shall be in my little island home, as opposed to my big island home. The island so big they defined it a continent, an island that defied the concept of an island, with deserts, and winters.
and I won't be there to bid them goodbye. Goodbye from across the emerald expanses, that I often stare at from the plane while the still silvery moon turns yellow as we get closer to the tropics, and little lights appear. Marking where there may be hints of civilisation. Where the reach of the moon suddenly seems to huge when you see moonlight reflected on sheets and sheets of rippling water, 1000 miles up in a tin can with wings.
And hello to childhood friends, remembered at 3ft high. Skin as pale as snow. just for a while. While I say goodbye silently, across the green shimmering sea.
and all of a sudden, I'm grasping at what cannot be grasped. Trying to clutch at this immaterial thing called time. Inexorable, intangible, a concept and a reality.
While my anxiety kicks in, my sadness takes me by the hand. I'm pumped with adrenaline and sedated, all at the same time. Like alcohol. An accelerant seeming depressant.
I will never see the beautiful smile and khol rimmed eyes, cocktail umbrella tucked behind one ear in wild bouffant hair. and I will never see the tea-cosy beanie firmly planted on wispy stringy blonde hair. I will never hear politically incorrect insults jokingly yelled at me in words that would have been strung together like a script on Dawson's Creek- by the hippie character from the Joey end of the tracks with the seth cohen quips. Or hear lyrical mandarin muttered in my ear saying the meanest thing about the meanest people, the voice belonging to a girl with a great shoe collection, and a spark in her eyes that speaks of untamable fire, like a wild horse.
and I realise that for 6 months, I will not see the two beautiful and proud owners of Ketchup, with their equally beautiful and proud fuel-related children. the ammendable, gentle, sweet, intelligent Diesel may not remember me. Amber will be needy. Ash will be sad, her mop hair hanging over her eyes, looking for all the world like a little lost schoolgirl. Six months their dads will be in London, being barista, in Spain staring at the serpentine Goya bench, the cathedral. Living in a real Spanish Apartment.
and where am I? Across the many seas. While they are leaving on their jet planes, I shall be in my little island home, as opposed to my big island home. The island so big they defined it a continent, an island that defied the concept of an island, with deserts, and winters.
and I won't be there to bid them goodbye. Goodbye from across the emerald expanses, that I often stare at from the plane while the still silvery moon turns yellow as we get closer to the tropics, and little lights appear. Marking where there may be hints of civilisation. Where the reach of the moon suddenly seems to huge when you see moonlight reflected on sheets and sheets of rippling water, 1000 miles up in a tin can with wings.
And hello to childhood friends, remembered at 3ft high. Skin as pale as snow. just for a while. While I say goodbye silently, across the green shimmering sea.
That I shall say good night till it be morrow
For I come from the salt water people
We always live by the sea
-My Island Home
We always live by the sea
-My Island Home
4 comments:
That was beautifully written; I esp love the bit about the moon. Does it really change color? Haha, remember the Chinese proverb about the moon being bigger somewhere else?
Well, congrats on being done! Are you planning on working in Singapore? Thought you were looking at staying on in Aussieland.
Peishan
nice. i love the bit about amber and ash. i'll be missing you hun. come back quick
WHO says you're fat?
(Sorry, couldn't resist)
yes noc, WHO says I'm fat. come to terms with it.
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