Friday, April 23, 2004

reading the blogs of JC students reminds me of how much i loved loved loved those days.

quite frankly, school life in Singapore has been very kind to me. GEP was great; i loved RGS, and i loved RJ life from start to finish. reading about their exploits now reminds me of early morning breakfast in the RJ canteen, or sitting on the Amphi steps in RGS with my classmates blowing bubbles; reminds me of Valentine's Day while being part of a choir/chorale tradition of giving flowers so that we all wound up toting ridiculous numbers of roses and candy hearts around all day -a time when V-day wasn't just about romance and couples but also about friendship, and community; reminds me of dozing off in an aircon TS surrounded by equally sleepy friends/classmates, or skipping Lit-S completely to sit in the canteen, watching the palm trees dancing in the breeze while doing my (hated) math homework. and writing poetry. remember our little poetry-writing exercise, cher? i still have the results right here.


untitled, 25 August 1999

there’s a certain slant of light
on hazy lazy sleepy afternoons
that softens and smoothes
the jagged edges of everyday objects
blurs the intense colours and
lulls sharp scents of hustle-bustle morning
into smoky sepia tones
it seeps into the humming-
thrumming of the ceiling fans
that swirl a warm tropical breeze
of muted conversation around me
and i can believe there is a heaven
here on earth

it gentles everything it touches
with silk-spun gossamer fingertips
and as i watch it lands on you
resting butterfly-kisses of trembling affection
a creamy woven-lace veil of
homage from beyond the clouds

that picture stays with me now of
you bathed in the otherworldly glow
of long caressing sunbeams
and comforts me
when this world is harsh and painful
and maybe
that’s why i love you


i like college, and i'm not saying i want to go back in time to 1999-2000...but sometimes, on looking back, the combination of the sepia-painting of history and the nostalgia-induced yearning for the simple intensity of those days suckerpunches me right in the gut.

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