27 July 2005
Sunday
I love talking to you. It's fantastical how our conversation could start from the train station, and end at the interchange when your bus approaches the bay. How we could mull over a plate of my favourite Indian Rojak, and then, share, over hot peppermint tea and latte.
We talked about, Life, essentially. Our lives. And sometimes we dreamt, about how we'd have a cafe in the corner of the neighbourhood. The dream would be kept in check.
There is so much more to the conversation than just words. It's the friendship that I'm so glad I've found. And I'm so blessed.
So blessed.
Wednesday, todayI feel free talking to you. And at times it's almost hard to accept we actually are blood relations. So we're running nowhere else from each other.
I always liked staying over at your place. (Your mom's culinary skills probably contributed to that.) Your mom always brought us shopping, and we'd both be engrossed in the toys section, afterwhich your mom would ask if I'd like to get an item. You always chose my presents, one of them, I remember, 'Pocahontas Face Paint' I used for Drama Festival.
Then you grew angsty and fiery. And there was a period you probably hated me. I don't recall the turning point, but we started talking again, and we never stopped.
Like today.
I can't exactly recall in detail what we chatted about, but after we went out, I felt thoroughly rejuvenated.
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I love taking Bus 36 home because it speeds across Benjamin Sheares bridge that overlooks the Singapore River and the Marina Waterfront. I can see Raffles Place, Fullerton, the Esplanade from it.
I don't know why, but the city's skyline, together with the humming of the engine and aircondition, have a calming effect on me.
D woke up at 7/27/2005 09:35:00 PM [comment]
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