Tag Archives: writing

Hong Kong Diaries – Entry #2

Day #5 [01/09] Sundays are for rest, and in my case, it was very much needed. Despite the protests not travelling to our area, I felt the tiny ripples that the protesters left in Causeway Bay reach me. Buildings in Hong Kong (at least on the main island) are very close together, so I canContinue reading “Hong Kong Diaries – Entry #2”

I feel like an adult when

I feel like an adult when a new washing machine excites me I feel like an adult when I butter my own toast I feel like an adult when I somehow manage to get rid of a cold on my own I feel like an adult when the question ‘what do you want to beContinue reading “I feel like an adult when”

Contortionist

I’ve often found myself contorting,squeezing into other peoples’ boxes.Maybe it’s because I’m small.I can fit into places easily. But my stomach hangs over my legs,petruding over the line. Stuffing never helps. Hiding can often reveal more than what was hidden. So I stopped contorting.

Ode to my broken piano

On the days that I do not love you my love looks nothing like love. In fact, it looks much like not quite the opposite but an in between state: A half-working key, an almost soundless note pressed against my finger-tips.

Flash

Maybe they use a light bulb,because memory is only aflash,a quip of a quick blinding burn – – a faint tingling remainson the tip of my thumb, but I don’t know where it came from,I don’t remember how it happened. “What was I saying again?”

Remember

If I am to remember,what does that truly mean? Does it mean to remember the guns fired,to watch the scarlet blood gleam,or to touch the spirits who are still alive today,and hold them in high esteem? If I am to remember,what am I to forget?For it is difficult to say I am sorry,when we haveContinue reading “Remember”