Saturday, 1 September 2012



1st September. The old standing fan constantly sending out a stream of breeze that try to take away any stagnant heat trapped in the room. The motor is making a low pitch noise with cicada taking the leads in their last performance before they were force into the ground again.

Then the rain came out of no where. The dripping added a nice touch to the symphony; the scent of rain provide another layer of sensation.


I'd jail myself up in a prison.

Life is a mess and sometimes shits happened. And when you can't take it anymore, you just shut yourself down, pretending that nothing had happened. You build walls for protection and never realized that it's the prison you end up with.


I need a fix.


Sun do shine after every rain.

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