and i said i know it well

cold, rainy saturday night in december
i'm safely ensconced in the tiny attic,
strumming to the likes of bon iver and ' first day of my life'

close my eyes and lean back against the wall

as my voice floats upwards, a distorted aria

play until my fingers have lost all feeling
till the metal strings cut deep into my flesh

nearly-frayed skin

find myself fighting back tears

is this what brokenness feels

marina bay

you'd think i'd have gotten over it by now but no- something keeps pulling me back in, time and time again. here i am, reduced to such a state. i want to hit myself.

past few days of my holiday:

playing with my lil brother

found this second-hand copy while rummaging around sultana bookstore at peace centre! 

In my head I'd imagine how our days would play out, perfectly idyllic and unapologetic

we'd linger over cake and warm coffee in tiny cafes tucked away in shophouses, giddy with excitement on having stumbled upon another gem. we'd traverse the streets, wanting to document every single beautiful thing, seeing the city for so much that it could be and more. at night we'd sit by the river dangling our legs over the black waters eating ice cream that we bought on a whim from the pushcart uncle. and of course, we'd wander around bookstores, greeting the books like old friends, picking up our favorite copies and quoting passages to each other because only words can affect us so profoundly. i'd look right into your eyes, without any trace of fear, which is something i can't do with anyone else.  you'd see into the very core of me, and your quiet understanding would be enough, would make me somehow whole

that is, if i even find you at all

Long due pictures from wkw halloween ^^

plastered with posters

damien and his new friend

Photo: Credit to school photogs

ah lian bee hoon

It's Thursday, 10th November and I thought of you from Ivan Tan on Vimeo.


(A film made by one of my wkw seniors, ivan tan, whose other works can be found here )


Because once in a while, something rare comes along. His work takes something from you, yet it gives you something in return too. It touches something raw and you're at a loss for words, unable to explain to yourself, or anyone else for that matter, why you're left feeling this way.

again and again, I find myself so completely blown away