as marla and i were trudging arnd lil' india last night, trying to find The French Stall (which,to my great dismay,is closed for reno i think.sobs), the police cordoned off the area and we saw this black plastic covering over what i would presume to be a corpse. marla and i walked away in a state of indifference - perhaps a necessary gesture so as to keep our fear of death/violence/disaster at bay. walk on by.

am falling in love with indian sweets n i finally got my treasure for the night - the herbal spices for masala milk. i asked marla if sharing the good news/gem would be a good idea during christmas - to give out my masala spice tea/milk blend as xmas prezzies. she thought me weird. oh well, i will then stick to Conventional presents.

***

have been running on empty for the past few weeks till today (slept till 11plus.wow) and guess whilst on the way to meeting marla at night, the fatigue came crashing upon me at city hall mrt. i experienced the most surreal sensation, an out-of-body experience - saw a few backpackers on the go at the mrt station and i felt myself being displaced - to the airport, felt as if i was the one waiting to go somewhere, to travel off somewhere - me and my backpack, notebook, books, camera. Operation Wanderlust was founded on the citadel of Imagination (since ive no monetary means, a poor struggling student).

***

ive hardly any sense of you anymore. Memory just died a stoic death, with a few tears being shed as a departing gesture and im not sure why it is as such.