Everybody. It has been approximately 1 year since I last travelled, since WE last travelled. I don’t know where my passport is. My luggage has mold growing on it. (like, for real)
I don’t know what I am doing with my life. >: (
But one thing I do know is I have checked this particular dining experience off my wishlist:
JAAN, by Kirk Westaway.
I am not a food critic, nor do I want to come across as a pissy, hissy sissy hiding at the back of her screen and judging chefs for their work when I can’t even _foodscience_
Just here to share some of the pics with you and include what I felt about them.
The view is gorgeous, but only if you manage to get seated by the window lol. Else you’d just be staring at every other table in a pretentious awkward silence that is usually present in these atas fine dining places.
So dinner’s about 238++ per pax, we had ours with a very delicious champagne. (Stellar at 1-altitude is about 150++ per pax)
The starters, 4 interesting and artsy looking pieces lay before us. The tomato cloud (from the bottom) was sweet due to the meringue that is supposedly the “cloud”. I did not like it, maybe because it was sweet and being hungry, I was kinda hoping for something savory or sour to whet my taste buds.
Fish and chips was slightly soggy and hard. I expected a crunch but there wasn’t. Whatever is wrapped inside felt really strange. LOL. Erm. Some kind of mashed up fish that has been left in the fridge and gone stale.
Cheddar cheese ball was okay, cheese was aromatic but the ball was quite dry. I guess its because it has been made and left to cool for a long time.
Goose mousse was the best. Savory, rich and well flavored. Tart base was crunchy and thin.
Leek and potato soup. This was well done! Good balance of flavors. Rich and creamy without leaving that “Gelat” feeling afterwards. Bread given was some onion bread that pairs excellently with the soup.
This is the bread and butter offered. The butter is sourced from the Chef’s hometown that is hand churned by the farmer. The bread is served on hay.. I get that these smells are supposed to evoke the feel of countryside living. But the smell of the hay was very apparent in the bread and I could not get past half a slice. The butter tasted like, butter. I am not sure what I was expecting either. But it made me think about the potato bread & butter served at ALMA’s, that was really unforgettable.
Gotta admit firsthand, I do not like artichoke. This dish did not make me grow to like artichoke either. Everything together was really weird, I was starting to wonder whether I was the weird one. The goat’s curd had no real role on the plate to bind the items together except that it was saucy. I could get the “grassiness” of the artichoke, and hence I drenched em in the curd. And I bit into the decorative green leaf together with a big bite of artichoke but it felt like I was a cow chowing away at the grassy plains. I did not finish my plate. Ham was ok so I finished that up along with the curd.
This was the only course I finished and which I really liked. It was flavorful and well paired. The brioche or whatever toast they gave was very dry. I only took a bite.
It was a beautifully presented dish. But it felt very rich and creamy (I guess cuz of butter) or perhaps the past two dishes have already been quite rich as well. Everything was starting to taste similar (LOL i think its just me) but I found it a chore to work through the fish. I found myself trying to avoid the sauce but the fish was too flaky and dry without the sauce. Did not finish.
I did finish the langoustine, it was fresh and cooked to the right timing. However, the “buttery” taste was also evident in the sauce of this dish and I just could not bring myself to indulge in it even though I am really a big fan of soups and sauces. (Usually lap everything up) The other items did not really leave a lasting impression on me. Especially the wispy pieces of what seemed like potato or idk starchy things that stayed unfavorably in my mouth.
Pigeon. This was probably the worst course for me. And it wasn’t because i am not GAME for game (haha punny) Cuz I do eat gamey foods. Its just that at this part of the dinner, I think I have already had enough butter/cream in my body to make a 10 pound buttercake.
This dish was completely swimming in that same buttery taste. (The brown sauce) The meat was made to be tender and lovely, but in order to cover the gamey taste, YOU NEED to pair it with the sauce. But oh fuck I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Like legit 101% gelat already. And that slice of veg thingy on the right hand side, kinda felt like expired and unseasoned saukeraut or just badly cooked cabbage drenched in butter.
(The menu guide wrote “Hipsy cabbage” And tbh I have no fucking idea if it meant like “drenched in alcohol” or perhaps its a fusion of hipster with ??? Gypsy?) Maybe its a dish that is popular in certain Angmoh countries. OMG i hate to sound ignorant but really!!!!!! Why is everything soaked in butter???
PS. I love butter. I eat butter like a snack. So how was this even possible?
Dessert. GUESS WHAT. BUTTER ICECREAM!!!
This is the one on the menu, pear turnover with BROWN BUTTER ICE CREAM. jesus fucking christ. Ima become lactose intolerant soon.
Finally no more butter. This is a palate cleanser. It was a special item that highlighted the Chef’s creative remake of RIBENA.
I slurped up the sour sorbet. BUT u know what. the flowers were too much and it felt like I was a cow chowing down at a florist shop so I couldn’t finish it.
Petit four to end. I couldn’t squeeze anything into my stomach by then except for the brown balls on the left. That was tasty.
My thoughts: I think the ingredients and presentation of everything was impeccable but I have to say the cooking style is not something that agrees with my palate. Everything had the same repetitive buttery note that was starting to weigh down on my tongue which grew desperate for anything sharp to jerk me back to senses. (Sour, spicy, bitter, I dont know. Just something.) So it may be somewhat of a bias review.
Just be ded…..
Well I do have a few more reviews up soon and Guess what I am eagerly anticipating?? ODETTE!!! It’s on my birthday wishlist but they are so terribly full till March So I will wait patiently and take lots of pics for you guys.
Thank you to all of you who have celebrated with me or given me presents or birthday wishes. I have reached a milestone in my life (Big 3 omg) and I am looking forward to moving on with the newfound epiphany and a contented heart.
I know last year flew by for everyone, some of which, including me, has absolutely no idea what has happened and it seemed just like yesterday when we were still making our holiday plans.
And yet, for some people, they became either millionaires or got bankrupt in that split second. Alot of things have happened to me, I lost a friend whom I thought was going to be there as my bridesmaid and gained plenty of lessons learnt instead.
I lost quite abit of hard earned money lending to friends who took advantage of me. I know im never gonna get it back. In fact I still have an outstanding debt to clear. But just as the friend who loaned me the cash when I needed help and is still giving me grace for it, I wish to pass on the same kindness to others. I hope the money I have “given” has aided them in their moment of desperation.
But I have hit epiphany. Through all the crazy months last year. I am thankful for everything that has led to this precious moment where it all dawned onto me. Its a true revelation. Everything happens for a reason 🙂
Birthday wishlist 😀
*Special shoutout to those of you who have been asking me for “hints” because you want to get me something. I am really touched.
But this wishlist is just a random compilation of things I need and things I can only get in my dreams. HAHA.
*Strikeout means taken by someone!* thank you all for being so nice to me ☺️☺️☺️
1. Clic H Bracelet in Orange
2. Hermes Birkin 30 in yellow or orange
On my bucket list!!!! I need to save up and get this for myself. I wanted to do it this year. But I guess its the age – I rather spend it on my future house 😦 So this can only be a dream ❤
3.Authentic Apple USB C Digital AV multiport adapter
4.Chanel Lambskin black wallet on chain
5.Chanel New Season Lambskin flap bag in Yellow
Wa chanel y u do this to me. All my favorite colours!!!Tonight go sleep, dream harder.
6.AESOP , you & your dog duo (online purchase)
7.ABSOLUTE On my bucket’s list HAHAHA Cartier Love Bracelet, half diamonds, yellow gold.
The entire world is seeing red amid this pandemic. The nurses at the hospital are seeing red. Small businesses are seeing red. Families spending more time at home are seeing red.
It’s a bloody, messy, scary Christmas.
I hope people will still find it within their hearts to have a little faith. Stay strong!
Once the big players in the society are done screwing us over all for playing their rich men’s game, they can finally put an end to everyone’s misery by giving us the cure.
At least, we should still try to have a good Christmas, and make an all new, refurbished, re edited New year resolutions for 2021.
Well good Christ, it seemed like just yesterday when we penned down our 2020 resolutions, did we not?
I, as like most of everyone else, did not have a good year. But I am lucky to be more fortunate than those who are really suffering. I made a few contributions to charity and was actually pleasantly surprised to read about the great and fantastic people out there who went the extra mile to help the needy.
2020 Christmas wishlist
This year suck so much that the quote “Go sell ass” don’t even work anymore.
Dine at Jaan, by Kirk Westaway
2. Platinum membership at the Yunomori onsen & spa
3.1 session of Rejuran + Venus Viva laser at Aeon Aesthetics
4. iPad Pro w. stylus
5. 916 gold Cartier inspired bangle
6.2 copies of 2021 sumikko gurashi large hanging wall calendar!
7. Typo A5 buffalo notebook in pretty pastel colour
8. 400$ top-up Nail package at my usual salon
9. Hit 100 orders for my Very Tasty Steamboat Chilli XD
10. Have dinner at Syohachi Yakiniku!
11. Selected gourmet items from FAVE FINE FOOD!
12. TWG Geisha Blossom Tea and Silvermoon Tea
13. A bunch of good quality thick black hair ties
14. High Tea at SKAI
15. Covid to end by early next year.
Take good care everyone and let’s work hard for a better year in 2021 ❤️
Sweet deceit, weathered thin. off your beguiling lips tattooed on my skin
half a tide, saccharine rhymes soured into blight I breathed for the last time.
painted red, and blues and black, bittersweet fate no regrets…
culpable, violent tremors i made a monster pero, sigue siendo, mi amor.
Was out with an obnoxious man last night (a friend’s friend) who mocked me for having my extremely sweet scripted tattoo on my right thigh (which is by far the best decision I have inked) simply because he felt my tattoo bore a dumbfuck meaning. He rolled his eyes at me and muttered words that suggested I was retarded.
I am not going to write out what it says because I know some of you have been dying to find out and I want to keep intriguing you HAHA.
Its all fun and games to make fun of people with cheap or really stupid tattoos, but they do them. – However, you, bro. You don’t respect love. and for that, I don’t respect you.
This tattoo is the memory of my younger self, who once loved so much that I lost myself. When he left me, I thought I was going to die. But I lived.
These words, are words of the greatest grace I can ever give to him – Well wishes.
It has been a few days since Ben had that freaky incident. It must have been work stress and everything negative blowing up at once on his face; he consoled himself.
Yet, deep within his subconscious, the explicit image of the corpse was glaring at his soul. Was that a message? Has he been watching too many horror shows on netflix?
He turned to his hobby to clear his head. It was woodworking. Splinters and calluses were a common sight, but it granted some satisfaction to cover that gaping void in his life. Most of the things in Kiki’s room were handmade. The coloring table which she loved was painstakingly crafted over a week. He recalls her tiny hands working furiously on the crayons, scraping against the chiseled wood with a piece of drawing paper.
“ZwZZXwZZZwZZ” The wood cutter was rumbling to life. Ben took a deep breath and inhaled that romantic woody scent. Goggles on, he pressed down hard for a snug fit. He found the safety goggles too much of a hassle and grumbled about poor accuracy, but Lylia made the goggles mandatory for fear of splinters piercing his eyes.
“Too much final destination” He would chuckle, but listened to her anyway.
“RRRRRRRRRRR” The blades whirred. The outline was perfectly drawn on the cedar. It was the skeleton of a rocking horse. It was a pretty big project for an amateur like him, but it should be completed just in time before Kiki’s birthday in August.
The cutter sawed through the cedar effortlessly. The smooth swift edges would make any carpenter pleased. Backyard blues was playing in the background. Ben felt at ease.
Slowly, the wood chippings fell off the table. The aromatic smell filled up the tiny shed. It smelt like the fireplace last winter where he brought the family for a cozy getaway down in Alaska.
The slightly curved base for the horse is gradually coming to shape. Ben became more meticulous now, taking great care to soften the edges by controlling the angle of the woodcutter. He had prepared tools and saw-paper to help round them perfectly later on.
“XXZZZZZZZZXXXZZ!!” The blades worked hard. It was loud and drowned out his spotify. Suddenly, the lone light bulb flickered.
Ben looked up. The light bulb started swinging precariously. He reached for the button to stop the woodcutter.
“CLICK” He pressed on the plastic tab. The cutter was still spinning at a voracious speed.
“CLICK!” He pressed on the button anxiously. Nothing happened.
He looked up again. The light bulb was swinging like a bird on the freeway, casting shadows on the shed like a rave party.
“Bloop.. bloop” he blinked uncomfortably. Something was pooling up in his goggles. With his free hand, he grabbed at the goggles attempting to rip them off. But they were stuck.
“Damn it!” He shouldn’t have pressed on so snugly.
The liquid accumulated and is on the rise. It stained the goggle lens. It was red. It was blood.
IT WAS BLOOD.
Too many things were happening at the same time. Ben’s brain was frenzied and tripping all over the place. The light bulb, the goggles, the whirring woodcutter. What in the hell???!?!!
Soon, he had to close his eyes as the blood was rapidly rising.
The lightbulb was making creaking sounds as it swung madly. Ben was only aided by his hearing at that point. His eyes were tightly shut.
A low raspy voice then echoed in his ears.
The thunderous words caused him to let go of the woodcutter in shock.
“ZZZCCCZZXXXCC!!” The blades pierced through his stomach like scissors on origami. Pain shot up instantly and left him crippled from the intensity.
He fell back on his hind, throwing the woodcutter away from him and desperately tried to remove the goggles again.
It came off this time.
The light cast across the shed is now an ominous ember. It looked like the inside of an active furnace. He peered at his stomach. Blood was spurting in all directions.
It was crimson on the floor. Thick, goopy mess.
At the corner of the shed where the supply rack was, the same grotesque corpse materialized from the shadows. The light was still flickering. Ben’s head was spinning from septic shock.
His hands were stained with his own blood. It trickled like an angry army and smelt like death. The pain immobilized his feet.
The ghastly girl seemed to be in a worse state than before. The last bit of skin on her face was consumed by maggots. The creepy larvae was wriggling boldly on her cheeks. Her hair was matted and dripping wet. Slowly, she crawled towards Ben, joints crackling like logs tossed into a robust fire.
She looked lesser like Kiki this time round, more corpse-like. except the lifeless eyes still retained the shape of the beautiful round orbs, it was no doubt it resembled her! Or rather, whatever left that remained.
“HELP ME DADDY… “
The voice was no longer raspy. It was child-like and it sounded pitiful. It was a plea.
Ben pressed hard on his wound to prevent further loss of blood. The creature was crawling closer and closer to him.
It made soft wailing noises. In his dire, curled up gait, Ben thought about that one time when Kiki was haunted by nightmares. She made the same soft cries.
But the immense pain and blood loss made it hard for Ben to fully focus on anything then. He backed up fully against the wall of the shed, using his arm to drag his limp legs along until there was no more inches left to distance himself from it.
Everything started to blur out. The pain left him convulsing. The creature reached out for his feet.
Ben blacked out.
“Crreakkk” His eyes opened partially. His heart started pounding faster when Ben remembered the ordeal and realized he’s opening his eyes to reality.
He clutched his stomach. There was nothing. No blood. No cut. Just his worn out A&F tee. The light bulb was still creaking but it was dancing peacefully in the mild zephyr that was blowing in from the tiny window.
The shed looked exactly like how it was before when he first started his work. The wood cutter wasn’t whirring. It was lying quietly by the base of the rocking horse.
He got up from the ground and dusted himself. Wood shavings flounced off him as he shook up.
Ben approached the table to inspect the wood cutter. It was switched off and even had the safety lock on. He lifted the sturdy wooden base off the table – And saw some red stains on the table.
Goosebumps spread throughout his body and chills ran down his spine like an untamed current.
With trembling fingers, he flipped over to the other side of the wooden base.
It was the same blood red paint again. (Or is it real blood?) But this time, there weren’t words. It was a children’s drawing that looked really familiar.
The deepest darkest night lulled over that Saturday. Ominous clouds embraced the moon, light disappeared.
He was alone in the bathroom, going through the usual routine. It had been a tiring day at work. Slumped shoulders bore the weight of resent, of bitterness and regrets. He slinked into the bathtub, wishing and wanting for the soapy suds to ease the stress away. He wasn’t used to the dead silence, even though it has already been months since she took off with their only daughter, gushing in the arms of another man.
Bubbles form on the placid surface where bubbles once were. It has been half an hour, but he was still soaking. The warmth of the bath too, has long left. He let out a fart, watching in near amusement as they gently rose to the surface.
“Bloooop.. bloop blooop blooop”
He froze. Somewhere at the far end of the tub, where his feet were perched against the smooth ceramic, were bubbles rising to the surface. That can’t be him!
He was unable to move. Eyes fixated on the spot, he found himself gripping both edges of the tub, stricken with fear.
“Blooooooop. Blooop Bloop Blooop”
It continued. Bubbles were emerging, breaking out on the surface almost violently.
Could it be the stopper coming loose by accident? He snapped out of his fear and dismissed it as childish. All the months of living alone must have gotten to him. In a bid to be rationale and solution orientated, he plucked his hand away from the edge. Blood flowed through his palm once more.
He bent forward, hand dipping into the lukewarm water, searching for the stopper.
The soapy water suddenly looks like a horrid shade of dirty brick red, no thanks to the last drops of bubble wash from his daughter Kiki, He groped around aimlessly for the stopper.
His fingers touched something. As though an electric shock, fear shot through his body, leaving him paralyzed from the touch. His fingers grabbed onto the object instinctively as he pulled it out from the water.
It was a large pile of hair.
Long, dark, crinkled strands of hair. They seem to flow endlessly like a ball of mating snakes, writhing in his hand.
His heart palpitated so fast as he threw the ball of hair away from him, and bolted out of the water.
“What the fuck?” he murmured to himself as he grabbed on to his towel.
“Okay, Ben, relax, you fucking idiot. It’s just hair. This is what you get for leaving the toilet unkempt since Lylia left.” Hands worked in synchronization as he worked hard with the towel, drying himself up in a bid to regain his composure.
Ben turned to face the tub. The tub was being emptied all the sudden.
He could feel his jaw dropping, feet rooted to the ground. He watched, dumbfounded and face marred with horror.
The water was receding. The sides of the tub was dyed with remnants of the obnoxious orange bubbles. Slowly, an outline became visible.
“…..” Ben gasped.
It was mortifying. The last droplets escaped through the sinkhole. What was left, was the body of a young child. Naked, and white as death.
He took off for the door without so much as a second look. Towel wrapped gingerly around his privates, he ran into his bedroom and tried to reach for his phone.
The ceiling light flickered, and then went off. He was basked in darkness. The only light that came, was the soft orange glow from the bathroom. Ben continued looking for his phone, clumsily groping in pitch black.
“Daddy… help me… help”
Soft cries came from the bathroom.
“Was it the child corpse? It’s alive?????” Thoughts ran amok in his head.
“Please… daddy. Please help me.”
The cries streamed on, loud and distinct, chiming across the room.
“Run.” Ben’s mind urged him logically. But his feet were doing just the opposite.
He inched towards the bathroom. Slowly…. the tub came into sight. Bony fingers were grasping the edge of the tub.
The sound of bones cracking reverberated throughout the bathroom. He was planted firmly in his spot as the corpse mustered strength to pull itself upright.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Kiki. Or, rather, something that resembled her. Her eyes were lifeless, and her body was skeletal. Hair was partially ripped out from her skull.
“…Kiki?” Words left his mouth without much thought.
Upon hearing her name, the girl started crying.
Ben tried to inch towards the tub, but fear was standing against him. His heart was slamming against his rib cage in protest.
He reached out his fingers. Suddenly, the girl stared blankly at him, her jaw dropping to an impossible length as though it has dislocated. The light went out with a sharp flicker.
“SAVE HER!!!!!” The young crying voice morphed into something deep and hoarse. Her eyes started bleeding.
Ben yelled in horror.
The lights then came back on. It was gone.
The tub was still filled with the fizzy orange water. There was no girl, no hair, and no sound. It was back to the silence that filled the house once before.
The only sound came from the rampant beating of his heart.
Ben lunged forward to the tub. There was nothing in the water. His hands sloshed around. He reached for the stopper to drain the water out.
His head was in a mess. He stared hard at the tub as the water went out. Then there it was, scribbled like nails against a chalkboard, were poorly written words. Almost illegible.
Her fingers interlaced his hair like silk, a wet smile lit up the room with a brazen gloom.
I wrote a great many stories about heartbreaks – Like poverty, like fame, Why do some people experience it more than the others?
Today, I felt it again after a long, long time. However, it is different this time round. Perhaps, like a fresh wound, the acerbic tones pierce you like it’s the first time all over again.
Today years old me, know that love and emotions are all processed in the brain. Not the heart. Hence, imagine the shock I received when my heart started writhing in pain.
Is that a placebo effect? Surely I have outgrown that.
It felt like I was a gigantic cell, and there was an incoming viral attack on my mitochondria, slowly spreading outwards, lengthwise, eating everything along the way. I seem to gradually diminish, my defenses are worn down. Pain exacerbated. Like as if my heart has gone into shock.
The attack spread outwards, down the span of my arms. The burst so explosive the hairs on my body sprang up in fear.
It was irrevocable. I couldn’t grasp at the pain nor could I make it stop. The exultant invasion clouded my vision. It has consumed so much of me that I felt light. I was floating away into a void. I was no longer whole. I have drowned in the anguish, and asphyxiated – All this time despite I am still very much alive.
Then, it dawned onto me. I figured that my brain was unable to process that much pain that it had to come up with a directive. It had to direct all that pain somewhere else in order to still function. To remain sane.
Because you can’t die from a heartbreak. But it kills you anyway.
Memories are like a slideshow of emotions. A Pandora box, leering at the love that remains.
Sheila has an innocuous face. Those big eyes that sparkle like droplets of first morning dew.
I really like that.
I plant kisses. Slow… gentle. From her cherry lips, to her decolletage, to her bosom.
Her body is petite. Scrawny , actually. With soft rosy flesh like velvet snow. So mesmerizing. Her breasts are a handful, nothing too lewd, but enough to please. Her nipples stand taut for the longest time, in its bubble gum color.
I wrestle my tongue on her nipples, sucking softly. She refuses to moan. Am I doing it too hard? I tease the teeny peaks with softer strokes, cupping the other breast with my free hand. The beautiful milky mound sits in the curvature of my hand like a fitting jigsaw piece. I marvel at the tenderness of this gorgeous round.
I feel a reaction at my groin area as my eyes slowly move south… from her obscenely hung breasts to her navel button with its cute little piercing… and then to her clean landing strip.
Her pussy is shaped like a yearning flower – Longing for a full bloom. Her labia is outspread, as if searching for that ray of sunshine. I rimmed them carefully with my fingers, almost like reading off a manuscript. I did it piously. My head, lowered, reaching to taste that nectar like a honey bee.
She’s already wet. I detect hints of urine, but well, the internet did mention it doesn’t smell like it looks, does it?
I applied some lubricant on my fingers. It’s watermelon flavor. I figured its a girly girl smell that may appeal to her. In a sweeping motion, i hold up her vulgar looking labia like curtains to a talk-show. The sweet valley popped apart, welcoming my greasy fingers almost with anticipation.
The sound it makes is melodious, I could almost fit lyrics to the tune. My fingers are working hard… and so is my tongue. I nibble, lick and suck on the flower bud with zest. MMmMmm… Tasty.
She’s all prepped up now. For me. I pulled down my pants, my manhood groaning, begging for relief. More watermelon it is. I lubed up. I looked at her, legs parted callously. All I see is pink. Her beautiful pink hair, and her rosy skin. A sea of pure, clean bliss.
Her eyes are closed still, looking like a sleeping angel, a cherub of spring. My angel.
I assume the missionary position. It’s boring, I know. But I get to take in the entire, explicit view of her body. I shoved the entire length in. Hard. Her body seemed like it shuddered from the violence of it. But, surely pleasure has overwhelmed the pain, if any was present.
I rock myself hard. The hunger is almost insatiable. I feel like a demon, relishing a living soul. A fire burns within the pits of my belly. I could not stop. Harder and harder, I pounded her like meat. I squeeze her boobs as if they are stress balls.
‘AHHHH FUCK!’ I emptied all of me into her honeypot, like the anther to her stigma. There was no resistance. She appears contented.
I brush my fingers against her forehead, sweeping the hair like fabric threads on a weaving loom. I kiss her for the last time.
Sweet, beautiful Sheila. I own you now. Your pussy has parted like a flower in bloom for me. My seeds are now scattered in you, where they will be, for an eternity.
I re position her body, for that whorish view is only for me, her lover. I carry her up from the bed. The plump pillows still imprinted with her tiny frame. Into the bathroom we go. I lower her into the bath tub. The smell of bleach corroded my nose. I try to breathe shallowly.
‘Sorry my darling, that you have to endure this. But you need this to retain your beauty.’ The concoction of embalming fluids completely engulf her body. I shower her, my lips curling into a smile.
She is so lovely, even when she’s drowning in viscous liquid.
Somewhere back there at Sheila’s house, her worried parents must have stumbled on her note, saying she has ran away.
She has run. to me. And this is where she’ll stay. It’ll be Spring all year round with pink.
A conundrum: What she fears that will end her life. The phobias creeping below her skin, the toxicity of a lonesome mind, what is it exactly?
Water usually eases her. Decked in a colorful number out in the sun, with a little picnic mat and a long time wasting away in merriment… almost enough to grow a mermaid tail.
Sparkling, clean water. Chlorine in the pool that appeared to have dyed the pool a lagoon blue. Being able to see where exactly the goggles fell onto the depth of the marvelously tiled floor.
She felt that the transparency of water soothes her, akin to humans. She was not a mind reader, or so she thought. But most people’s thoughts resonate like high end crystal glasses, clear as day, albeit some are deadly.
A fish that swims in circles along the sad parameters of a confining pool, drowning in the expressions of everyone she has met; is that sad? That is indeed a tragic tale, enough to activate animal rights advocates to initiate a protest.
But one who swims in the unknown depths, never knowing what’s behind you, what’s below you… and how far up to the surface, is that fear?