An evening heart

A peaceful sun dusk which eases my anger over the Midlanders

Beautiful sunset on a calm evening

Enchanting evening with dancing trees

I love the dusk more than a sunrise.
It speaks to me as placid waters.

It also signifies that the trouble of the days are slowly fading in the starry, night sky.
A rest, relaxed soul thereafter after the rough days.
Wine and light come together.
A soulful melody and lovely words pacify my tiny strength.

No matter where I go, it helps to know I have grace from above.
The One who lets me enjoy both the sunrise and sunset.

This world is still immature as it recognises discrimination and strereotypes.
Why do we resort to hurt each other?

Differences are beautiful.
It is only when we drop down our arrogance and uphold acceptance and respect each other as a human being, we could make this world a better place.

No one is better than the other. The sunrise and sunset do not appear to us exclusively.

Strangers in Paradise

Strangers and paradise?
Both don't sound amicable to me.
But I must assert that I hope both these words will give me a sheer delight for the coming moments.

It's another time to move on to new territory.
Accepting and embracing strangers and the unfamiliar could be daunting still despite a frequent mobility.
Never thought I will embark on this land which once witnessed our connection across thousand miles during the pleasant evenings.

I want to look forward instead of returning to our present dwelling.
May great things are accomplished here with the blessings from above.

I've always like to hear 'Leaving on a Jetplane' and this is my choice of an amateur play.
There's has been many versions but I like to pick this as my best favourite.
It's soothing and it doesn't matter if I have to wait for the taxi.

Enjoy!

Title: Leaving on  a Jetplane
Artist: Tara MacLean
Album: Songs for Sunset
Year: 2006
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvqORmiuBvg&gl=HK

New - Great or nothingness?

New environment, new faces, new car, new home.

Suddenly, the former turned into a brand new swanky stuff, overnight or gradually.

We always expect and view the new as positive.

When we moved to a new house, I am happy that we have bigger space now.

It didn’t really appear to me that I wish for my space those days but I do now. Perhaps, the familiarity and the common attachment to my room had me a desire for my space.

Comfort zone, common and common. Comfortable.

Now that we have moved to a new house, I find that I miss our former home.

Although it was smaller then and a nasty next door we had, I find fewer things that bothered me than where the new is.

News, conversation and traffic were lesser. Sound proof is better. Less  interference. Less people to dislike. Private. Breeze.

My soul is still there. I played around the neighbourhood. The house watched me till I moved . I recalled the tall tree under the evening sun.

The image was pleasant and nostalgic.

There was a short walk nearby to a lake and eateries. I walked, cycled and drove along the road.

I even made a project of this former residence. Snapping, writing and pasting about the neighborhood.

People picked me from here. Day and night.

My days, my tears and joy were watched under the moon, sun and stars when I was here.

I did laundry better here?

Although the house is now occupied by someone new, it had me there and nothing could cut the bond.

No matter what has transformed in this neighbourhood, it was once my lovely residence. A truth no one could bend. It is our house of love. 

A house which once housed me.  

A home.

A dwelling in my past which shall not be forgotten.

Eat, Pray, Die

An editor commented the phrase I used in one of my article.
An acrimonious divorce is superflous.
No divorce could be described with a positive adjective.

Exactly. Just as my detachment process which has been acutely depressing.
The bolt and nuts of my brain are almost dropping off from the screws.

I enrolled into the wrong book out of the world's expectation. Could I blame on the guru whom I consulted so I don't feel entirely sorry?

I have a good affair with Love but shortly left and reluctantly return to Hate in critical moments.
Moving on with Hate, we landed on new soil but Hate had transformed into a Sore and I hated it deeply than before but surprisingly, I still cling unto it.
Why do we often have what we refuse?
Why there is no better refuge?

Sore then mellowed and I found Genial in Sore.
Slowly, Sore is changing into a small Hate.
Smaller and smaller.

Still, I want to bid farewell to Hate.
I want to close Hate's door. I want to open Love's door.
Could I?

Love has grown over the years in the march of time.
But, Love may not open its door now.
A bit too late. The carriage has a timer.
I have to line up in the queue with an uncertain 'Yes'.

I lose Love because of Hate over the years.
Why didn't I boldly pursue Love in the first instance?

Could I reclaim Love and dwell happily in an English Castle?
Armed with knights and weapons to block Hate at the entry gate?

I sincerely don't know.
I eat without Love.
I pray without Love but I still pray.
I pray to die if I could not open Love's door.

Who's on the line, sweetie?

The raging wind is acting in madness out of a sudden.
Blowing the housetops forcefully and sending bangs of the door.

I began to follow the similar madness.
Mad at about everything that has to do with life, especially me which is a life.

It is not impossible to ask what identifies you, here on earth, yes, on earth.
Heaven cares your identity the least but you know the earth doesn't act that way.

What is your worth?
A gem? A baby? The desirable ? The 50's greatest man/woman list?
Listed by Forbes? Fortune 500? FHM? AskMen?

Where do you live?
What type of property you purchase/invest?
Posh? Elite neighbourhood? Or eww...slum? Worst - homeless?

What do you do vs How do you do?
What's your paycheck? Packed with fat or slim in figure?
How many zeros you've got in there?

We began to identify ourselves along these veins.
Our validation comes from ????
Bingo if you answered "Others".

I took a walk under the dark sky and singled out the three big factors which the world uses in the identification department - money, intellect and beauty.

If you have any of these in generous amount and quality, you could made an easy ride on earth. Almost.
Oh, never mind if you cut others' line and gain them shrewdly.
The point is - get it or get lost.


All of us know this fact , a somewhat cruel fact that I have to tell my kid that "this is it".

Who dialled our line, sweetie? 
Fame, Power, Wealth, Beauty, Seduction, Temptation
Anything but the real thing, mommy.

Tears and Fears

The glare of this light is annoying.

But this has been my place for the passing months.

I observe the crystal ball before me. 

I don't like what I see. 

Is the fear of death more fearful than death itself?

A young woman got stuck in a car after a collision at the trunk road.

The late arrival of the paramedic diminished her chance for survival.

She fancies music a lot and writes about thirteen songs todate.

Putting hopes to cut her own album, she endured with the hopes that day will arrive when people are singing her tune. That the world will discover her music.

A collission on a Tuesday morning teared up everything in a second.

Her unspoken lyrics. Her song demos. Her passion. Her hopes.

Her fears. Her frustration. Her struggle. Her pain.

What's our worth at the end of the day?

Some people have good things fall easily into their laps, with or without the luck.

Some did their very best and be flat honest but hindrances are here to stay.

What's wrong?

What's the barometer to measure who, what and when they deserve good things to happen?

I don't want to answer this question.

I am unable to answer him, except with a blank, lost  look on my face.

Should I be thankful I am still around or I am merely living on the shell without my essence?