dearest snow

snowflakes greet me from outside the window, 'hi vahd, i see your long weekend has been a good one. i'm sorry it's almost over. i know how you feel about this. tomorrow you must resume your duty, fill your cup until it's full enough - one day.'

left, right, up and down. look! - how lively the snowflakes fly. they seem weightless. the gravity tries to pull them down to the ground, but winds command them to other directions.

if one snow touched my window; it melted almost immediately. and, like tears on a face of a sad person, it leaves a trace on the glass - for a while. until the wind wipes away the trace, sooner rather than later.

and the trees in the garden, except the pines, are leafless now. they will remain like that for a couple of weeks. when spring is here.

e c h o e s . . . .

cloudless everyday you fall

upon my waking eyes
inviting and inciting me to rise

and through the window in the wall

come streaming in on sunlight wings
a million bright ambassadors of morning

and no-one sings me lullabies
and no-one makes me close my eyes
and so I throw the windows wide

and call to you across the sky...

- red leaves of autumn, north bethesda, october 2010 (v)

autumn in new york

it's about the time for me to write again. september is still here. and so is america.

september. a month less-celebrated, but also, to borrow tom jones' words, a time of the year when life is slow and mellow. when grass is green, and grain is yellow.

the month when love is an ember about to billow. even in the deep frost of december, when you know the snow will follow, it's nice to remember the fire of september.

for me, september means something more. a rainbow caught me then. in the middle of new york jungle. with em. and everything is by the way.

meulaboh

tomorrow, dear friends, i will go to meulaboh. a seaside town located in aceh province. in december 2004, meulaboh was devastated by the visit of mr. tsunami. things were in ruin then. now, five years later, i go there for the first time in my life. my coming is to see the inauguration of a hospital donated by the people of singapore our neighbour. the itinerary is set. and the programme is made.

aceh, indian ocean, here i come... ya huala huala ehaaaa....!

swans of astimpas

du du du... du du du... see now there are swans in my office's cubical. simple origami paper creativity in various sizes. mostly white, sitting on top of our four pcs. manky made them. du du du... du du du... these swans of astimpas dont float on the english river. but that's absolutely okay.

m

there's a time when a man needs to fight and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny's lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. the truth is i've always been a fool.

(ed bloom, big fish)

go no more a-rovin'

the round tables in this comfortable room are made of white marbles. here by the window i sit and cast my eyes to the street. thinking of leo, mark, victor, you, and the uncertainties ahead of us all. on days like these i yearn for miracles to reduce these enduring appetites. i sip five cups of tea a day.

i recognise these streets quite well, although the faces unfamiliar to me are many. hmm... never mind. i know new faces come everyday. only a portion of what we see is to stay in our mind's journal anyway.

leo told me from his tower of song that his friends are long gone and his hair is grey, he aches in the places where he used to play. and he bade me farewell, not knowing when he'll be back again, and so on....

and victor said there are doors in his life that he never want to open again. but he also admitted it's difficult to deny they are there; and perhaps only right to open the sometimes. for when making resolutions, we need to look back on past mistakes. to be sure they are not repeated, but also to make better the return encounter. i appreciate his kind words. reminding me "to give love to those you care for, and a smile to those you don't. to be all things to all men but just yourself to yourself. be humble and human, but proud of what you are." thank you for tonight, victor.

it's nearly a closing time. i know you're out there. if friends in time be severed, someday here we will meet again. when you have time for me, you will find me here, watching from the window. writing from this marble table in this street. i return to leave you never.