nothing pains me more than illogicity and irrationality, and if i could slay that scaly fire-breathing dragon, i would. 'cept that i'm a maiden with a coronet in my hair, so theoretically i'd need a Sir Lancelot to come charging through the golden eaves, his coal-black hair glinting in the sunlight and his burnished shield raised. unfortunately, i live in Singapore, so all i'd have is perhaps a Mr. (insert-typical-Chinese-surname-here) to whisk me off in Comfort cab if i'm lucky, drag me on the mrt if i'm not.
i'm craving for mango with dripping condensed milk, for swamplands and crocodiles, for deep fried oily crispy things that would shorten my life by 10years. i see the white crane spreading its wings ready to take flight, the striped tail of the fat tabby nonchalantly falling off the concrete step in its nap, the leopard and its spots yawning in the afternoon sun.
i see deep blue crystal waters that glisten azure and turquoise, purple swatches of the twilight sky smeared with strokes of deep crimson, gashes fierce and soft. i see the velvet midnight sky cloudy and thick with humidity, hear my breaths, see the shaft of light from the open door, Yellow Light.
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