Ramblings

Smells that i love:

1) The smell of rain on fresh grass
2) Lavender and vanilla
3) Jasmine tea
4) Scented mothbolls
5) The smell of fresh laundry
6) Annick Goutal's perfume
7) Lemon zest
8) Cinnamon and orange
9) Mom's tender roast beef
10) Coffee after a hard day's work or in the morning
11) The smell of a new book waiting to be read

Sights that i love:

1) Bubbles glistening in the sun
2) Flowers preferably violet or white
3) Ribbons and cupcakes
4) Waves crashing against sand dunes
5) Whimsical art
6) Liselotte watkins
7) Flickr photos
8) Lush green foliage in a forgotten dell
9) The people i love
10) Colours that "dance" under different lights like my mom's pitch black hair that
appears tawny brown under sunlight.
11) Crisp white anything preferably snowflakes( coz they're non-existent here), white linen blowing in the wind, white curtains, a pale white streak of sky amidst an explosion of sunset colours at dusk, white cars, soft white velvety dresses, white ballet shoes and rabbits.
12) Old ochre photographs of family members and ancestors

I love the feel of:

1) Cashmere and satin and chiffon and velvet and silk
2) Rivulets of clear water streaming through my hands
3) My fluffy blankets I've had since 5-they're so divinely soft!
4) Baby Zara's rosy cheeks
5) Grains of sand and pebbles on the beach
6) The wind whistling past my fingers as i parasail
7) Fur capes
8) A persian cat's lush fur

I love the sound of:

1) Music-jazz, bossa nova, indie
2) Birds chirping free abandon in the morning
3) Baby Zara's gurgles and indecipherable baby sounds
4) Water tinkling on glass under moonlight
5) Drums beating steadily like the throb of the heart
6) Merry whistling
7) Spontaneous laughter and hearty guffaws
8) Rustling newspaper of bygone days
9) A cat's contented purr
10) A car's rumbling engine
11) Raindrops pattering on my window as i drive

The taste of:

1) La Phet Thouk( traditional Burmese tea leaf paste)
2) Mom's tender curry chicken and butter rice
3) Baskin Robbins' strawberry ice cream
4) J.Cos and Coffee
5) Waffles with peanut butter and strawberry
6) Burmese pancakes
7) Bright yellow glutinous rice with crackly onions and soft peas
8) Chai tea and fluffy homemade bread with pistachios
9) Warm Milk and chocolate chip cookies
10) Pizza with layers and layers of cheese

Bubbles and cyanide: a paradox?

I wish to go back to the days when a bubble blown with care free thoughts glistened in the sun and made my day. I yearn for the days when I never failed to be enraptured by the dewy beauty of roses. I envision past days of listless lying on the sofa and thinking how big everything around me is. And being excited when a familiar, beloved face made loving noises and coo-ed my name...I wish i was a child again. No one can ever perceive the world through a child's eyes. It strips the hypocrisy, pain, falsehoods, dogma and unnecessary complexities...it lays the world bare, an artist's impression of the reality as it is without prejudice-true to its primal existence.

This bareness is exhilarating, breath taking,like shards of truth slicing hard into flesh yet the child's dimensions allow only receptory sensations akin to the soft purr of velvet against skin. Truth and clarity are fresh faced visitors welcomed with tiny embracing arms smudged with crayons and mud. Peace is a permanent resident, requiring no visas, taxes or any of those tiresome government documents to verify it's content lodging in the sunny dell of mirth. Curiosity is at its peak;it fledges its magnificent wings and is soon airborne amidst fluffy white clouds and a slowly shuffling seascape of cotton waves and silver sand dunes. Nothing ever lost its spark, a frog pond, a ribbon wrapped over an ancestor's memorabilia of love gone but not lost, a brown paper bag with a bulging peanut butter and jelly sandwich sealed off with mom's kisses. It does not feel the pain so addictive in the adult's world where narcissism and self hate go hand in hand, justified into daily human norm by Freud and others.

The harsh ambiance of the stark adult's world has no time or patience for the child's world. If the child's world and the adult's world were to collide, the adult's world would shrink in hostility into a brooding black hole, a cornered mangy dog starved of love, beaten and trampled on to fulfill the manifestation of its name. Yet it would remain, a gaping wound on the gradients of innocence and happiness yet to be tainted with materialism. I can imagine the wound throbbing and thrashing like a speared eel awaiting its sombre death on a spit fire. Soon the mists of confusion would seep out, a cyanide genocide of every child's Once-upon-a-time....