he remembers everything she says;
he conquers his greatest fear for her;
sings outside her window with a jazz band behind him;
he forms  a plus size heart with all her friends and family;

he.

i can never remember the date; and it’s strange because
i’m looking at the calendar every minute everyday,
drafting with note of the almighty date,
referring to letters of this or that relevant date.
and yet i still have to check for confirmation, too many times a day.
and 11th of february somehow seems very much like the 10th.
and the days are rather meshed together in one continuous, long,
long, endless stretch of black film.

unfound

i always feel like writing but never know what to write about;
i read and read and the more i read, the less i write.

i imagine all my random (and not so random) thought bubbles to be floating around in a world where lost thoughts go; floating around like little glass bottles in the sky, looking for a place to go.

RIP

we killed a bee today, in self-defence.
so we put it in a box and buried it in the garden.
rest in peace, bee friend.
and we’re sorry.

film roll #1

boventure!

the rocket

So, there’s this astronaut who was supposed to go into space for 40 years, but right before he left, he met this beautiful woman. But for those 40 years that he was going to be in space, he was going to be in suspended animation. So when he came back to earth, he was going to be really young, but she would be really old. So he goes into space, and when he does come back, the woman is still young and beautiful because she put herself in suspended animation to wait for him, but he’s really, really old because he took himself out of suspended animation so he could be old with her.

He spent 40 years alone in space just waiting to see her, and he was willing to come back as an 80-year-old man, giving up almost his entire life just to spend those last few years with her.

i will follow you into the dark

if wishes came true

01   can i please sneak in through the tiniest of doors tonight and listen to the sound of your sleep; i’ll whisper meows into your ears and peep into your heart – the heart i can never find my way around without a map.

02   my lovu-mevu recipe would work: make three twirls on peppered marble floor, twist and wriggle like an octupus for 20 minutes, snap my fingers and ta-daa! you’ll be here.

03   it would snow in september and ice cream would grow on trees. we could build snow castles and make snow angels too; have snowball fights and biggest-snowman-wins competitions.

04   i’ll tiptoe along the pipes that lead to my secret hiding place,

and wait.

05   i could teleport myself to the library the beast showed belle to, the one filled with all the books in the world and such golden grandeurs a girl can only dream of.

so much it hurts

a colourful saturday-

print exhibition at SAM;

verner panton;

and then a change of clothes and a change of scene;

cookie crumb trail

A heap of scrap paper and post-its with my random scribblings told me it was time to get a scribble book. So i did (or rather, v did!), and my small book’s been following me everywhere.

It’s filled with bad handwriting and nonsensical (ugly) doodles, and moments – moments when i miss you so much, my hands and feet get cold; moments when something makes me laugh and the first person i want to tell it to is you; moments when i go to some place i want to take you and need to draw a map; moments when i feel this insane urge to call you and tell you that you’re mine.

And so these moments never become untold stories; these very many moments when i wished you were here won’t disappear without a trace. They are dots on a canvas which connect to form my heart, the heart that is missing you sorely.

i want to fold these pages into paper aeroplanes and fly them all to you; or maybe a paper boat so it can carry me across the ocean.