Randomness

I find myself dressed in my black running singlet, typing on a tiny white laptop.

Roti prata in one hand (on the table of course) and a tiger beer in the other.

The air is humid and warm.

Yes, this is Singapore in all its midnight surburban glory.

~~~

In this time - a random flow of words.

There was a time, perhaps there still is time.

Dreams, ebbs, flows, they all have their moments don't they?

A ribbon of meloncolia flits in the air tonight, perhaps its the tiger talking.

Sometimes we miss the rhythmic thumb of the march. The ridigity of struture.

Others we reach, for the unatainable fluidity only preceived in the freedom of youth.

We petty humans, we mere mortals.

My ways are above yours...

so sayth the lord.

Thank goodness they are...