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.