How do we keep our souls from being stolen?
By the silver lights of the city
And the serenades of the sirens?
They call to us,
Peddling their wares,
Singing a chorus of sweet deceits.
I wander the black and white city,
Streets paved with gold and precious stones,
On the faces of passerbys
Were eyes that glint with a hunger
That can never be satiated.
They run from places to places,
Seeking,
But never finding a home.
Am I in a lucid dream?
Wide awake,
Or on the brink of sleep?
Straddling the worlds of dreams and realities,
Never knowing the veracity of either world.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
This blog is so neglected. Just returned from a month long trip to Palawan, Philippines. I should have documented more of my thoughts, the sights, feelings, etc. I guess I didn’t find the time to. It felt like traveling back in time when I was there to the 60-70s Singapore.
Houses were made of attap leaves with no telecommunication network, electricity, flushing toilets (some still practiced open defecation). In one village, the only water source was a polluted river. It’s tough having to live in conditions like that But I suppose over time, one can get used to it.
I might have enjoyed myself a little too much over there that there’s this dreary feeling when I had to return.
There were nights where the entire city was shrouded in darkness and you could see the stars so much more clearly. The sari sari stores in the neighborhood were lit by candlelight. It was both fun and not fun at the same time.
Anyhow we even saw fireflies in the tree next to our apartment for one night. They are truly miraculous to watch, like magic stardust floating around.
I enjoyed the quiet but the sounds of tricycles and the motorbikes broke the silence most of the time.
I brought along Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s Memoir living to tell the tale. Quite an amazing read. And I find myself yearning for that kind of lifestyle- whiling the time away in cafes chatting about everything under the skies with people who share your passions like books, arts, whatsoever. Will do the review soon.
Houses were made of attap leaves with no telecommunication network, electricity, flushing toilets (some still practiced open defecation). In one village, the only water source was a polluted river. It’s tough having to live in conditions like that But I suppose over time, one can get used to it.
I might have enjoyed myself a little too much over there that there’s this dreary feeling when I had to return.
There were nights where the entire city was shrouded in darkness and you could see the stars so much more clearly. The sari sari stores in the neighborhood were lit by candlelight. It was both fun and not fun at the same time.
Anyhow we even saw fireflies in the tree next to our apartment for one night. They are truly miraculous to watch, like magic stardust floating around.
I enjoyed the quiet but the sounds of tricycles and the motorbikes broke the silence most of the time.
I brought along Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s Memoir living to tell the tale. Quite an amazing read. And I find myself yearning for that kind of lifestyle- whiling the time away in cafes chatting about everything under the skies with people who share your passions like books, arts, whatsoever. Will do the review soon.
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