This continues directly from yesterday’s post (Day 5). To be able to choose your way at all is a huge fucking privilege. It’s a strange and heavy freedom, the freedom to change. Stupid as it sounds, I bore it like a burden the whole of that first year. I remember it as The Season of Doubt.… Read more
Change. I can’t talk about change without talking about moving to Port Dickson. If you were to chart the path of my life, it’d probably be a very meandering trail. Something like what an ant would make, or maybe one of those cicaks with their long bodies and sticky little feet clinging to all kinds… Read more
“A Man of Words and Not Deeds” A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds And when the weeds begin to grow It’s like a garden full of snow And when the snow begins to fall It’s like a bird upon the wall And when the bird away… Read more
