north-american possums! work fatigue grouses; singaporean; ex-poet and writer; former convent girl; converted, convicted and painfully quiet; bibliophilic; skyscrapers; weather-talk; dining alone on sashimi; your life with Jesus; banging heads with problems; looking from afar; loving my xiongmao; peanuts & anchovies; battlestar galatica; novella dreams and paranoai: holding onto you.

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Thursday, September 11, 2003

"A little tap on the window-pane, as though
something had struck it, followed by a
plentiful light falling sound,
as of grains of sand being sprinkled
from a window overhead,
gradually spreading,
intensifying,
acquiring a regular rhythm,
becoming fluid, sonorous,
musical, immeasurable,
universal:
it was the rain" (141)
Marcel Proust: Swann's way

if things don't turn out well today, i will want this post to remind me what a beautiful morning it had been. It did not rain but if it did, there would be something poetic about it that my sentimental mind would conjure. the right side of the bed was very inviting this morning. i sat in the arts canteen, slurping and crunching my yong tau foo. i had chosen the spot where from the corner of my left eye i can see the light overcoming the reaches of the gentle slope. how do you describe the movement of light that ascends the slopes, barely touching their crowns?

ok. my cousin is not here yet. my aunt told my dad that he would be arriving around the 10th of september so it could be anytime now...

posted by happyhannon at 9:34 AM