Watching the grass grow

because it takes courage

Letter to an Invisible Man

The Existentialist Bathroom Thinker

Hi, you!

I think it is difficult for me to let go of your beautiful eyes staring at me; the way that playful smile lingers near your soft cheeks when you quietly call out to me for the forbidden things, that you and I do when no one is looking. Your voice, husky and almost rude; it often sounds like a comfort or privilege over the phone. How dearly you would calm my nerves, when I would feel like my chest will implode with worries of not now but tomorrow, the day after & so on.

You, beautiful unknown soul that resonates my own tune in most horrors. Our love for hedonism, childlike glee in looking at the drudgery of common folk, a shared sense of prestige in the flukes, or the near misses. When you laugh, it’s hard not to follow suit – it’s like that nasty bird in…

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meow.

Why do I feel so depressed suddenly? I hope it could all just be due to my lethargy. It’s been a long day helping out in training. Glad to have carried our duties out diligently and received praises from our superiors.

Escape is only temporary. Embrace resolves forever.

Nandos at LOT1 with Nigel & Brian for dinner after going back to camp in the late evening.

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Writing

Grass