Portrait: Girl

She scratched a corner
of the sky,
then a book,
then her mind's eye.
In dismay,
found nothing.

She touched a blade of grass.
It turned into a dove, flew away.
She remained.



Siok Tian Heng

Crumble

I no longer know the language
the ink in my pen has dried.
And when I rub my fingers together,
crumb of bytes fall off.

I have no complaints whatsoever.
There's nothing to hide.
Even joy is bare.
Sadness will always be veiled..
Poetry's returned to my life.

This city lets me walk around by myself.
I like to walk around.


I walk.

Hello and welcome!

We are back!
Been having a good life.
Travelling around, meeting people.
Visiting, revisiting.

Things have changed
ahaa.

with you without you

We are moving

Thanks for watching.

The trick then lies in learning to balance things.
To be able to not let things affect you too much.
At the same time, to not become stoic to everything around you.
It's tough.

I'm still learning.

mornin

it's nearly 6 am now. I've been up for more than an hour.
I hope this jetlag stays, seriously. I d love to see the sun rise every morn.
It's so nice to be home.
:)

Toys

New to the neighborhood.

Some whacky finger monsters



















some regular guys




















a swimmer (I love this one)



















a bugbox with a magnified top for me to peer down through




















and then, the whole new lot!

packing up

is such a task.
phew

Black ink

I'm an athiest
I go to all places of worship.

And sometimes I get tired of these calculations
wherever I go they're around.

I read the temperature in fahrenheit
but feel it in celsius.

I weigh myself in pounds
but feel my weight in kilos.

I buy in dollars
but spend in rupees.

Wonder when this automatic calculator will lie down.


But can we ever meet without prejudices?
Like we did when we were small.

Is a coffee equal to two hours of silken silence?
It's so quiet here all of a sudden
This clickety-clack is amplified.

I know I'm not the centre of the universe
but wait, there's no need to feel smug.
Neither are you.

Ryan

I was channel surfing.
Something on Link Tv looked and sounded familiar.
It was Chris Landreth's film on Ryan Larkin, the animation genius.
In the late 60's Ryan Larkin was nominated for the Academy Awards for his film called 'Walking'.
Sheer genius.

I'm feeling tired after watching the film and the documentary about the film.
Drained out.
Ryan Larkin now lives off the streets.
He became a dipsomaniac somewhere along the way and now lives off the streets.
They said, this is the worst thing to happen to an artist.
Landreth's film has these half fleshed characteres. The face is only half. That's it. Only flesh on half the face and the other half, it doesn't exist.
Extremely poignant.
It doesn't feel like a film.
I guess it really isn't.

It's the truth staring right back at you.
Like looking in a dirty mirror. All your horrors looking at their reflection, that's what you are.

How often does a documentary about one single person leave you in tears?

His face quivers as though he's talking but the words really come out only 7 seconds later.
Sot.

He begs on the streets. And he says nonchalantly, the most often asked question is, 'why don't you get a job?' and he tells them to either leave their spare change or just move down the street.

In the end Landreth goes to show him the film. Goes to show Ryan a film about him, based on actual interviews and characters generated from the interview. Life and art intermingling and who knows who's imitating whom?
Ryan was left speechless after watching it.
His last words in the documentary?

'Well, I guess I want out'.


I feel caterpillars under my skin

This morning in yoga class I made a friend.
We're meeting up on Wednesday for dinner. I offered to help cook and bring dessert and some wine. Looking forward to it, should be lots of fun. I was feeling really enthusiastic about everything till earlier this evening. Just watching this film has managed to completely drain me out. How does one accomplish that, as a film maker? Does the film have to be as close to reality as possible?

Like you were watching the person's life itself?


I'm listening to my favourite Dylan song sent to me by a kind fellow blogger. If you're reading this, thanks again!

Alright then, my last week here has begun. Next week this time I will be nowhere. It's really something like that. The total time I'll spend travelling is I don't know what, but it translates to 30 hours. I'm reading Bolivian Diaries, part of the bigger Motorcycle diaries of Che Guevara that were not included in the film. It's intriguing.

( 10 minutes later)
I think I know how I feel after watching the film Ryan.
I feel as though I were driving down a beautiful highway and it began to rain. It was a harbinger, I drove on and the rain became almost fierce. I couldn't see clearly and the wipers were having a tought time fighting the force of the pouring rain. And I saw something red on the other side of the road. 7 seconds later I realised it was a body, rolled up backwards, from an accident.
Yeah, that's how I feel.