Also, I just have an excerpt. Something of a fantasy, something of a story idea…
[QUOTE FROM TRAVEL JOURNAL]
I saw a girl on the MRT just a little while ago. She was staring intently at the floor, and yet her eyes were unfocused. She was lost in a deep maze of endless foggy doubt. She looked perhaps in her mid-twenties, bronzed streaks blazing through her leveled hair. Her lips were pulled into a sad frown, her yellow blouse slightly soo small, her jeans/skirt faded and dull. She had crossed her legs, revealing a number of bruises, and she seemed to be crying inside. i wondered if it was for herself or others.
I imagined myself taking off my cross and giving it to her. It wouldn’t have been logical. Instead, I pictured a lady with a bouquet of roses, humming as she selected one and stepped forward to lay it gently on her lap.
"For you," you would say with a friendly smile. "Whatever it is your’e thinking about, things will work out in the end. They always do. Just sleep on it. You’ll think more clearly in the morning."
The lady would nod carefully in response and thank her, fingering the petals gently and raising it to her nose.
Alas, there was no lady with a bouquet of roses. Only me and my quet fantasies.