Stay here with me

It was March; the weather was in its hottest in year. I would not consider it a summer because we didn’t have any here, beetles buzzed loud at surrounding trees and woods, almost deafening, it’s quite unusual to be that loud but it was even more unusual that I could hear it so clearly – the earth was on a holiday. I looked up into the trees’ canopies; my eyes squinted, I used my palm to form an imaginary cap in front my forehead. Thirty to forty feet ahead, afternoon sunlight pierced through the scattered leafs, formed patches of lights on my sweating body. I picked up the hacked woods from the ground, and filled it into the empty basket. The place we all live was far away from town, a place that was consider a cut-off of some basic resources, so everyday before the sky got dark, I would go into the forest to collect as much dry woods as possible, if we didn’t finish it, we still could use it during emergencies. These years had not been too peaceful, I didn’t know how many people had d

The taste of coffee lingered in my mouth and tongue. The sensation in my throat is like desert after sea of coffee vaporized, leaving only over-dried land to crack. I quenched a mouthful of water, tried to give the desert some nourishing.

Rain continued, sequel to the unfinished story of yesterday. Trillions of rain drops hit on the old rusty roof, in perfect unbroken sound stream; it forms the sound like wave crashes onto the rocky cliff. Sky is covered by a big mass of grey cloud. There is no end to the gloominess even to the furthest of eyes’ limit. Living room without lights on, main source of light filtered through the window sills, casts faint shadows into the room. TV sits right in the middle of the space, remains in the shadow, rest itself and try to cool down. Ceiling fan makes its’ rotations slow and steady, generating an ambience wind with the mix of September rainy season breeze. The music plays for a few times at these moments.

Rain gently hit the rooftop of my old house, the roof is composed of systematically arranged patches of zinc, it gets rusty after all these years, there was nowhere in my house was quiet – only sound of rain. “Can you recall anywhere I should make change to? It seems like it’s not working.” My colleagues’ voice came from another side of the phone line, a business call from another side of the country. “Hmmm” the only sound I could make to show that I was actually thinking of something, my usual reaction. “Let me think about it for a while, give me a few seconds” “Okay” I tried hard to think about it. I looked at the wooden tiles in my room, the long tiles stretches from one of the wall to another side. I stared up the ceiling, the aging milky colored ceiling with spots and dirt on it – it has been left unattended ever since my departures. Then I studied at the patterns and illustrations on my pillow wrap, no visual came to my mind, no solution for the question. I thought was there anyt

“I don’t really follow the game, but I support Germany” She said. Our conversation can touch a lot of aspects and categories; it was world cup season, so I guess it’s quite normal and natural the content of our conversation could have some elements of that. Like driving in a small town, anywhere you go, you will eventually come back to the main street road. “Oh, me too. I think a lot of people are buying Germany. They need to win this match.” I commented. Sitting in the living room, I just finished my instant meal. Afternoon, I invited her to have dinner together, maybe the same old town? I suggested to myself. It was too late, she has got appointment. Then she told me there is no U-turn to things that she has made promise – a girl who always hold true to her word. “Want to bet about the match?” I asked, coming back to our conversation. “It’s like how?? I don’t really know about football.” the word appeared from another side of the line. I can’t see her expression or her face, but mos

“I wonder what is the meaning of between cucumber juice and chocolate drink” She pondered then replied to her own question in attempt “I think you are in dilemma of choosing the best from the bad and the good one?” “Hmm, yeah maybe so.” I replied in an uncertain way, I doubt she realized that because she couldn’t see my expression. One best thing about talking through Internet is that I can always forge my expression and tone, but I never decorated in this case. I didn’t think much when I wrote about in between cucumber juice and chocolate drink, but I just wrote it. I can quite relate the emotion to the analogy, subconsciously I will say. I dislike the taste of cucumber juice; it’s kind of raw, like raw plant blended – and yes of course cucumber have to be blended raw just like the fruits in order to become cucumber juice. The taste is just like I have done one step less. Or rather, everything has been undone.

“Sometimes I look back the work I have done, I will wonder why I have to do this? What was it in my mind that I had to use this method? What was I thinking at that particular time?” I said. “Then I would try to use some other approach if it works in the same case, but turn out my original idea was the best suit, so I guess what I thought that particular time must have covered this thought that I’m having now, it caters. I feel amazing sometimes.” “Then will you forget me someday, if that symptom hits you again?” She asked earnestly and out of curiosity. I gave it a deep thought, tried to apply it to some analogy and see if it works. “I don’t think so; it won’t be the same for human being. So far, it happens to things when I’m in work or maybe I should say I only realize it occurring when I’m working. ” I explained. “Memory of a person is not discreet, it’s like a continuously stream over time, like a flowing river, from a canal to a wider river. Shape of the fluid takes on form of rive

She sits erect in front of the grand piano; she raised her hands and brushes her fingers through the key notes in swift and lightly. Her eyes follow the movement of her fingers as they move away to the side of the keyboard and as they return slowly like giving the keyboard a good massage. I look at her from side. She has black and straight long hair; half covers her porcelain like cheek, her features are naturally beautiful – undecorated eye brows and her long eye lashes, elegantly point down as she concentrates on the notes. Her red lips contrast under her fair white complexion like a white canvas filled with red water color in the middle – they are slightly ajar, as if she is humming the soundless note herself while playing her favorite song. She is wearing black spaghetti stripe shirt, showing off her shoulders, and her arms. Strains of her hair rest lazily on her shoulders, try to steal some warmth. She is wearing a knee length loose skirt – clean white fabric with black color flow

Done it finally. As my favourite author said, the most difficult thing you can do it without hesitation, I would need this one moment of determination to execute it. I have sent them to Re-cycle world, I wonder there is such place exist in the other dimension. If there is, I wonder what they will become. They are once about love, memory and emotion. They reminded about person, places, incidents and times. Such a simple thing they were, that can connect things. Connect people. Break people. Now they have gone for good to the other world, search for the next eternity. As I continued with my own life, life goes on.

I'm totally into the photograph. It's like obsession. The photograph shows a gay couple, or maybe close buddy. One's head leaning on another's shoulder, sleeping sound. While the other one is staring at the sky in serious concentration. The picture is taken from the side and the couple is standing sideway to camera view. The sleeping guy is wearing an army green outfit to the toes, wearing boots while another one is wearing east india style of rugs and pant. These 2 guys caught my attention for the very first time, but i soon found out there are extra characters in the picture. Right infront of the guy staring up, there lies a girl looking at the same direction as the guy, also staring up with intent concentration, her left arms on her chest, right hand on her belly and her bottom body is covered by a white cloth. On the right side of the picture, right behind or beside the sleeping guy, there lies another guy. I can hardly tell what is he doing. His eyes are closed. He

This is not about describing the symtom of the disorder. I just suddenly think of the person that told me about this disorder. Or maybe not suddenly. I have been thinking about her for all day long. Every 5 mins or 10? I wondered what is she doing at this hour. Most probably she is asleep or maybe having a car ride with special one. It's passed twilight, i stared at the screen and at the list as if waiting for some miracles to happen. No many people were here, but that was not so important after all.

Friend told me there is a dessert house just opened near the corner of the street opposite the traffic light. She likes the mocha there. I saw from the picture, they do serve ice cream dessert, the picture looks like Baskin Robbin to me, so she told me the ice cream is home-made one. Home made . It reminds me the ice-cream i used to eat when i was little. I had never taste those ice cream for like more than 10 years? It's more like ice with flavors but it's not creamy. The ice was super finely blended, it did not taste so sweet, it was just nice. The sensation of the ice melting on my tongue i could fairly remember, and it actually quenched my thirst for water. Ice with flavors, a local made gelato style "ice-cream", i think it's already extincted by now

I dialled my friend's house phone, wanted to wish her happy birthday. It rings more than 10 times, i suspected her family were all asleep? It's already 10 something. Then some one picked up, came a voice of a middle age woman who talked briskly, sounded a bit furious who i could remember it's her mum's voice. So i mentioned my friend's name. She is not home, why didn't you call her handphone? I thought she changed her number quite often that i failed to follow so i just punched in her house phone as spontaneously as i did - house phone number will never change unless she moves house. I tried her handphone later but was directed to voice mail. The uncertainties of technology. Phone with cable are still the best. Just that people are getting busier in this decade, getting in touch in a fix place is a mere impossibility.

I have been taking lozenge candies continously these days. From vitamin-C flavor to mild strong. Mild strong to extra strong, both taste almost the same - the same mintly numbing feeling. I found they all still not strong enough so i got myself a pack of lozenge candies of pain relief level . Sound really in pain. However i found only my tongue was numb while my throat still went itchy.

I crave for a car ride. Do i love driving that much? It does give me an adrenaline rush in speeding during corner. Or maybe should i say i like her existance at my passenger seat when i drive. I look at the empty passenger seat then i realized it's not the car ride that i longed. No one else will make a simple car ride so memorable. I really miss her so much.

How can i summon you out, my angel? The images of you are fading away, there goes my humanly memory, i'm so reluctant to let go. It's been years since i last saw you spreaded your wings wide. You were always there for me when there was storms and heavy rains, tranquilized my raving wave with your calm and coolness, a smile of yours. Just like mother's warmth. Places were so comfortable with you around. You gently touched my forehead and said your good-bye, then you flied away. You never turned back then. I saw you away, to Paradise, the place where you belong to. I still can feel your warmth on my forehead until today, helping me to wash cold away. How can i make you stay i wondered, how can i make you understand how much i want you to be in my life. How can i summon you back, my beautiful Angel.

The fragrance of your hair and yours still linger around the air, but you're no longer here. I knew you wouldn't stay for too long, you kept on denying, that fading smile of yours and i could see that from your eyes, that distracted eyes of yours, lose its' warmth day after day. Your shadow stretched behind you as you walked away into the endless path ahead, and i saw you left that day. I have never wanted something so much in my life, i dried my tears overnight and i have never cried so much in my entire life. Dear.

Flawlessly clean and white, soft with fragrance, seeing the clothes you wash it's just like seeing you. I used to come back sweating all over, but i seldom change. You always laugh at my dirty looks, sometimes it's just unavoidable for guys. Those kind of ordinary and relaxing conversation is no longer exist. I love you. Really really love you. I feel sorry but really thank you. Your kindness and my rigidity, who do you think our children will look like. Girl with thick eye brows or boy with single eye lids. That future that I so look forward to, has disappeared into the thin air. What I once perceived as reality has now become fantasy, what's left with me is just the familiar face of yours in my mind.

Although keeping some story untold, he has tried his best to convey everything from his heart. So maybe it's good that she still doesn't know what he feels about her. Pure and clean like a crystal. That sincerity is rare. For the first time in his life he has seen this, full of admiration but at the same time feeling so helpless.

When you realize the things you wanted so much, that you didn't even know how, and where to get it, is then now at your own disposal. It tells us time passed by.

Although the place looks always the same, but i still go there often. As if waiting for something.

I used to wait inside the car with father when mum went to buy wet stuff at fish market across the road. The weather was hot, our car's air con was not functioning well, producing hot air instead of cooling one. Father sometimes would go buy lottery then i would be alone. I looked out from the car window, the row of shoplots across the road, there was a clinic where i used to go and see the doctor - those tiny to small matters. The doctor was soft spoken and his voice was a bit rough. There was a handphone shop along the side where we parked, father bought a handphone for 300+ there, second hand, those pretty big one - like a brick or toss-at-pickpockets weapon. The town center has got more than 20 years of history, buildings and structures naturally planted themself to the land like fossils, as if they were there they since the land was found, blended and mixed so well to surrounding. People were so used to it. People were all over the place, walking down the street, standing wait

Parents and grandma left for home today, we were all there to see them off. The journey to airport was a quiet one, ordinary talking were occasional. No people repeated those funny incidences happened during the visit; they nearly locked pap in the house when they left the house for shopping spree, luckily not serious enough to start a fire, else rest of the day would be ruined for good. We were all standing near boarding entry to say good bye. "This would be the last time i see you all here", Grandma said as she teared, and we deeply understand that in our heart, she is already 90 years old, and it's like N years ago she last visited. We sent them in with our waving hands. Parents are getting old too; "If i stop the time, it's not because i don't want to grow up. I just don't want to see pap and mum get older and older!", Sister said. I wasn't sure if she cried but we definitely feel heavy about that. Time just increase, build up, years overlap

They lived with each other for too long already. Things were getting routine, he would come back from work in the evening, she would wait for him in the room. For a day long, she had a rack of book to fill her ever empty schedule. She did some chores - washed clothes, swept the floor and went to top up kitchen stock. Sometimes she would surf net; about places, cultures and literatures, there went a day. He came back from work, same like any other days, too used to the existance to each other till they never bothered to greet, neither a single i'm back nor i'm home. Saying anything like that for the sake of saying it would be too redundant and extra. Sometimes they didn't talk during dinner time, a conversation of no more than 2 questions and replies would be luxurious. At night, they would do their own things. Even they stay in the same room, he would go to his favorite web sites and forums for update while she would attend to her unfinished chapters. The silence continued

In my dream, i'm dying all the time. Fear of trapped in water flooded maze, finding my way out as i losing my breathes. Water rushed into my lungs - I choked, seeking for a single molecule of oxigen, i tried to move forward, tried to actualize my thinking into action, brain kept squeezing and injecting neuro-impulses, the signals through body neuro-networks to my hands and feets until my brain felt numb itself, my hands were no longer under control - my brain was dead, I blacked out. But i still knew what was happening, it's like another me was watching me dying. I could hear voice telling me this was not real, voice tried so hard to convince me. So i woke up from my own death, water is no longer deadly. In water, i could breathe, and i swam like a fish. In the sky, i could fly, just like a bird. I jumped so far away.

Waves quietly ran into the shore, making a distance noise in the air . Air gently touches the wind chime, loud then fades off i still can hear. Yellow moon light slant over the lonely planet, sending millions of flicking stars onto the blue horizon which is now cold silver, shine on me, stretching my slender shadow onto the old hut. An aging bench sleeps alone outside the hut, the place where we used to rest ourselves, look up into the sky, counted the stars as the two coconut trees merge in the sky.

I sunk myself into the brown sofa, gave out a deep and long breath. The cushion beneath me was soft like feather. I leant my head back, looked up at the plain white ceiling. The ceiling made its' distance from me and then it zoomed in again. I figured out the scenery outside through the thin and gently floating white curtain. Seagulls were playing their favourite song, flu along the horizon then into eternity. Sea were calm, without any hint of lifes but the breeze was still warm as ever. It proved my existence, and the feeling were real. Then I wondered, where on earth are you. Don't angry at me no more.

The duckweed drifted restlessly against the tides of sea, tried so hard to find a peaceful place to park. It just couldn't get himself over to another side of the water. A beautiful fountain of pond.

We sat there for another while. The other guests left without any noise. Then she started to use the disposable plates, stained tissue and chopstick as some landmarks to describe a direction. If i would to use these items to describe direction to middle earth underground, i would need to borrow those dirty plates and tissues from the neighbouring tables.

I wondered where has the company t-shirt i bought back in the flee market, different design of it i bought, those designs of company t-shirt i didn't have. Those are exclusive collection over times, those designs that i didn't know they have, how come, i thought mine is a new company for merely 2 years. Why the hell they put it for sales in a place like this? It deserved to go through a better way, maybe gave it away to the employees like me who so wanted it. In this plot, i hardly recall who was the one with me going to this place, a friend, a colleague, a guy, a girl or a stranger that i don't know, that i will never know.

Here am i, sitting pointlessly watching the clock tower at my 2 o'clock, or more exactly 2:30, as the train flies passing by. The rubber man or rather i like to call it a plastic man rows pass me. Not exactly rowing the boat but many times i would have mistaken it. Today they change outfit again. The train flies pass over the plastic man, without any reactions they give. There he goes into the tunnel under the bridge and disappears. There is this pillar of "Pirate of Carribean" comes from nowhere stands in the middle of the attraction, extending itself into the sky, tower paris, Burger King, castle of pensylvania, and the ever futuristic symbol of the nation - gigantic model of twin, all these things in an eyes view of human. Blending these things together is just tasted as bad as the fruit punch back in 80th floor of the raffle city, smell like a chemistry lab goes totally wrong.

Can't say she sings without skill but rather, more appropriately saying; without much decoration. That simplicity and purity of voice that doesn't need cosmetic and beautification, and it turns out to be a beautiful ordinary voice.

Back in the old day, we used to get up before 6am, just to get to the hilltop and see the sunrise. I was almost reluctant to wake up but i still got up anyway, sister insisted. Sister drove the old charade of our family's, and i sat beside her. She asked me to take care of her camera when she was driving, those analog camera with zoom features. The camera, captured a lot of precious moments, people, beautiful things, and things in odd angles. We waded through the overgrown grass still wet with overnight mist. Sun rose fast, i saw it came out mm-by-mm over minutes. I measured it with my two fingers held close infront of my eyes. We took a long and slow breath. The most beautiful earth i ever saw, it is no longer the same.

We all imitate pap well, his over-reactionness on some rather insignificant issues. For once mum did that imitation, we all broke into hysterical laughter again. Lungs and body almost separated. Pap is still cluesless.

They fell into a hot discussion about current educational affair and political stuff. It was when my mum mentioned about the "ants", then we laughed for months as an ultimate joke.

I lied lazily on my sofa, eyes transfixed infront. My mum stood there and looked at me for a few seconds, both hands on her waist then she left me into the kitchen. My grandma came, she stood there and lookecd at me, i didn't look at her but i knew she was looking at me. Then she mumbled something which i wasn't paying much attention to comprehend it. She left me and went out to have a stroll. Then my sister came down from upstair, she looked at me. Then she did some motion which i think was stretching, held both of her hands high enough as if she could touch the ceiling, marched her legs rthymically in tip-toes. When she was about to say something, "Yea, i have no tv", i said.

Yo, stranded in a strange and cold continent, land and planet. I think i have to wait for another decade or centuries to get you back. By then you have already become stone.

Woke up at 12 o'clock, looking at the spinning ceiling fan. Suddenly i start singing that song again. I don't know since when the sun shined into the room, my thin purplish curtain definitely can't keep any light from piercing through it. There is a lotus root hanging high in my bath room but there is no bathtub, alone in the bathroom. Dried, motionless, and dead. I don't hear any sound, it's dead. The fan spins it's maximum, it spins so fast. Can it be held in it's place? I see the ceiling is slowly cracking, rippling caused by the spinning motion just like you put your fist onto a piece of cloth and turn. It breaks loose, finally, creating a vacuum hole in the ceiling with a loud bang. Things around start to tremble and sucked into vacuum hole, the space. The curtain, the shirts, pants, books, pillow, bolster, ashtray, cigerate, lighter, the poster on my wall, the empty juice can, the unsent christmas present, sample perfume, my all time favourite travel i

"As I sweat this endeavor, it dominates the storm in me, bringing the storm back into the its tea cup, and I can only hope that the storm would retreat to a drizzle and soon, a beautiful rainbow."

I just got my head fixed but I lost all my memory, only remember their name and telephone number. Trying to build up some memory but i'm progressing slow, i don't think i can get back what i had before, my owner is drying up of ideas and getting upset, "respondant" is short and plain in response. I hope i can do something to him.

It was a quiet narrow wooden bridge we walked on, tides gently crashed onto the rocky cliff 10 meters underneath us, crispy clear. The old light posts stood along the wooden trail separated by some distance. The faint yellow light casted shadow of the rope handrail, onto the rocky cliff behind it. It merely enough to shed a bit light for us to proceed few steps ahead. You were just behind me, carefully you made every single step through. Our conversation absorbed into the air of South China Sea. Border of South China Sea. So far an island from the civilised dwell we used to belong. Over 400km across the mountain, river and forest, plain, cities and sea in vector. A small dot on the world map we were now situated at. From 1 small dot in the city to another dot in the middle of South China Sea in alien's view, across so wide an ocean in our eyes view, we sailed. Across the sea we travelled. Lived under the ocean there were another thousands or ten specifies of sea creatures, each bea

The wallpaper selection was not a surprising one, judging by the food they served in the restaurant, any interior designers with common rationality and un-outstanding talent would have choosen picture of similar feel; some japanese women, dressing in kimono, walking down the street of old kyoto, shopping, while the men are happily quenching the sake in thirst. The place was crowded of people, typical a KL-japanese restaurant, restaurant that is always flooded of food seekers. On my left, through the glass overlooked into a chinese normal-food-after-packaging style restaurant, those very common one. I'm back from a mind-drift after 1 over 10 second, there sitting in front of me, she was still laughing at my last joke. She was wearing a deep blue jeans, milky sleeveless top, the illustration of her top caught my attention at the first 2 minutes. Sucker of human heads, my sister invented the name for me, seeing my obsession in clothing with human face illustrations and paintings. She

In the playground we played hide-and-seek, counting 1 to 20 and seek. It was never so hard to find you, but you almost cried whenever you didn't see me, only 5 minutes you played the police, i would surrender myself to those wet eyes, then you laughed your most joyful laughter. I was happily being caught. I gave you all my sweets and candies, left my own pocket empty, you ate till you become so sweet and pretty. You were always like that, i liked to treat you like that. To spoil you like a spoilt child. You have grown up. Good bye to me with a smile, silently i see you headed south. Waved at you without making a sound, want to ask you to take care of yourself. Inside mine i cried like a baby. Suck at saying goodbye my baby. Don't forget to catch me.

We met at the cafe for a light dinner, the cafe i renamed as our usual spot. It's long been renamed since the first time we came here, but I refused her to say that as she mentioned that we always came here. Actually she's true that we always and every time come to this place, that's because only twice we had dinner together. 5-7 years ago, the café that known to me was some really old style one, not to say they purposely decorated it to look old-town but as time built up, the building, the ceiling, stairway, tables, chairs, wall mosaic and paint just lose their colors. Coffee was served in a very common glass of that contemporary, with condensed milk layered still visible at the bottom. My favorite dried mee with minced pork was sometimes served in a cracked bowl with rooster illustration; it made the food looked even more original. So we settled at a table right corner outside the cafe; it’s left if you're that cafe. Not really corner but there was 1 table space behin

They live in the same world, like everyone else on earth. The difference is that they live in a big container, sealed them from outside world; they don't know what is happening outside, neither do the outside world know about their existence in this bounded subset of population of their own. They were raised to become a perfect human - beautiful human beings. They were taught to be good, educated to become professionals, and become intelligent. No books, no comics, and no reading material with elements of rage, aggression and sex. Their memory of their childhood are typical - riding bicycle in joy while grandma calling for them to have their meals, once he/she lived in a small house in the outskirt area, by the river or canal. They miss out the most beautiful, or the most breathtaking thing in its invisible existance - Love. She caught his attention for the very first time they met, then they become really good friend, they care about each other but at the same time they don't

Yea, i like the way she sits in my car, as if she has pretty much got use to the limited comfort provided the cheap cushion. It's dim during the car ride, but her fair complexion shone a bit as we cruised under the endless row of street lamps - continuously brightening and fading away as we travelled. She was rather simple today, not any earring. She was wearing a cardigan fabric kind of red blouse and a beach wear hot pant revealing most of her legs. She was beautiful, fragrance of hers and her hair shampoo was at my nose tip all the time. It was 1 something in the morning, way passed her sleeping hour. I saw from the side of her as she was nearly crying to sleep, hint of tear accumulated in her eyes. So i lent my hand out, tried to wipe off those tears from those little eye bags of hers. The touch of her cheek i can vividly remember - like a baby's skin.