Yesterday I watched two pigeons fighting while I smoked by myself in an abandoned courtyard. One was ash-grey colored and the other one was a hodge-podge of creams and light greys. There was a chaos of flapping wings with occasional muffled cooing. The lighter colored pigeon ran away, chased by the ash colored one. After awhile the ash stopped its ( Read more... )

The ducks are floating lackadaisically upon the swampy shores of the Parramatta River. Overgrown bushes that have turned into concealing hedges cover their sanctuary from the rest of the world, the world of humans. The sky is a cloudless azure. The ducks are nonchalant, concerned only with their activities among the mud and reeds. They are ( Read more... )

Excuses are merely excuses: they are not justifications.

I have frequently wondered about the purpose of writing ( Read more... )

Before I came here, the future was so laden with uncertainties that many options presented themselves before me: 1) to remain as a visitor, that continues to come back to Australia as an addict comes back to their addiction, though in the end, never "belonging" there; 2) studying here for either the chance to later facilitate my education into a ( Read more... )

I have been thinking of my thoughts, which inevitably leads me further away from purging them, as I find myself becoming lost within them, unable to find my way back to where I came from: the original thought. It's like exploring an underground maze that reveals a new mystery around every corner, so that enwrapped by the discoveries, I can't help ( Read more... )

Without the help of my Precious and my parents, I don't think that I would have the ability to be where I am at this stage of my life.

Thank you for everything.

Personal Truth: The less I write, the more unfamiliar I become with the fluidity of language and the depths of my own thoughts.

“The most tragic moment in human relationships is when we are given to accidentally see, by a revealing word or moment of crisis, the image that the other carries within themselves of us, and we catch a glimpse of a stranger, or a caricature of ourselves, or an aspect of our worst self aggrandized, larger than nature, or a complete distortion ( Read more... )

Arms folded whose fingers are adorned with silver rings, eyes closed, hair brushed away from her face in dampened strands, lips glistening with lip balm, chin worn by too many kisses from a lover’s stubbly chin, red and purple and blue pin dots that mix into an impressionistic style that form into three darkened marks along her neck, a fitted black ( Read more... )