Mostly you just sit there, inert, you thoughts far away. Your eyes idle on the people, buildings and vehicles outside the window flashing past. Yet you seldom or never frown at the precious time spent – back and forth mundanely and methodically, till you know impeccably when to wake from a reclusive nap. Life is too short to be wasted this way, I think.
The morning paper – a window to people, happenings close and miles away – keeps me in my own realm. Occasionally, a novel serves me comfort – and always, my earphones blasting; typically of angst from unrequited or lost love. Other times, my attention distracted, shifts to the others on the same route: asleep, gazing into empty space or heads bowed above reads statue-like – devoid of life. A snicker hissed. I am only one of them: like sheep covered in garments and accessories of silver or gold. We are entrapped in this cycle of struggling to live each day with self-importance on the cruellest lie. We are like the rivers eventually flowing out to sea: each a similar piece of a whole going different way, yet ending at the same destination.
2 comments:
hey, ...yah i guess many youths in singapore actually care about politics, but at the same time they feel the tension of opposite to be apathetic as the political scene here is not possibly going to change under the ruling of the Lee Dynasty...or shld I say I personally feel so.
Anyway I like ur introspective style of writings. And I also love Jazz music and Corrinne May's songs. Haha, guess they are just wonderful.
haha...glad that you had enjoyed my irrelevant blog:-)
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