sippingsoda

Skit.

2012-01-28T12:21:00.001+08:00

One step forward. I felt heavy in the light airiness as the world gave way.

I was on my hands and knees crying from the fall I took attempting to take my first step. Arms were around me, comforting me, stroking my head, lifting me up and onto the shoulders that smelled wonderfully like home. Soon, I was walking on my own, running. The noons that brought Dad home for lunch. Of Tarzan and afternoon naps.

School was queer at first, with all the little curious faces, crying faces. I found joy in putting colors onto outlines of pretty princesses and I did not go a single day without my colored pencils and coloring books. I was weaving magic and life into a dream world. A proud achievement that I shared with Mom and Dad daily. Being able to read brought me to even dreamier and twisted places of fairytale, folklore, legends and mythology.

As I got older, school gave me the world in the form of an Atlas and stories in the form of histories. I went from my home to ride with Genghis Khan in Mongolia, to walk with the Dalai Lama in Tibet¹, and to run away with Anastasia².

The years flashed by in a swirl of romanticism. There was no pain that I had so long associated with, that had weighed down my heart every step of the way. Is it only at the end that we remember the sweet and we lived the in-between's drenched in bitterness?

30 years of old movie set on a screen of a tumbling world from the ledge down.

Then I hit the ground.

* Word token courtesy of Mike

---

Notes:
(1) Dalai Lama rules in exile after the 1959 Tibetan uprising from Dharamsala, northern India.
(2) Recent DNA studies concluded that Anastasia did not escape but was executed along with her family by the Bolshevik secret police.

Obligatory Chinese new year post.

2012-01-26T09:59:00.000+08:00

Because it is Chinese new year and I am surrounded by the sound of firecrackers and drums, and all things red, this is will be a trippy happy CNY post. I think I have been this trippy happy since I came back from the States, thus the lack of emo posts. But I still remember the "word tokens" that I have in my list to write up, so... yeah.

The obligatory chinese new year clothes.

Day 1:

Actually, only the skirt is new.

Day 2:

Everything is new here. My new pair of "school shoes" (as my friends call it) were only bought on the 2nd day of CNY, right before I went over to a friend's place to pai ni to replace my torn old one. School shoes or not, I think this is a must-have cause it goes well with anything. Got this from Payless in 1st Avenue. Was very surprised to see a Payless outlet there, albeit a very small one.

Note to self: Must go find more treasures there before my CNY vacation ends.

Tucson.

2012-01-22T23:35:00.000+08:00

No one was keen on going to Tucson. Except me. So on my final weekend in US, I decided on Tucson instead of Vegas =p And I loved it! Without Tucson, I will not be able to show off awesome photos like this one ♥:

Where I was almost brought to tears when I sank my teeth into the best of the breads or roti's I have ever tasted - Indian Frybread topped with powdered sugar.

I also managed to have Sonoran Hot Dog at El Guero Canelo which I had wanted so much to try even before I knew I was gonna be going to US.

And drank Horchata.

Ahhh... bliss!

San Francisco.

2012-01-21T08:12:00.000+08:00

Whoa... San Francisco day was like a photographer's block day. No continuation at all in the series when I finally get to slowly browse through them. It's very... sporadic. I totally have no photos of the yummy radish cake that I had in Chinatown because I was gorging myself silly on it and finished a canister of XO sauce together with it. Yeah, we went to a dim sum restaurant and all I had was radish cakes and XO sauce. Can't even remember the name of the restaurant!

Corner of Broadway and Columbus. Jazz mural on the wall and... book birds? They leave "droppings" of words on the sidewalk. Due to photographer's block, I forgot to take photos of the words, so I had to magnify them up from the only photo I have of the place.

Lombard Street:

I especially love this shot of people just doing their own thing. I wish the guy tying up his laces was not cut off, though.

Golden Gate bridge:

One of the very few shots I have of myself :( Time to consider dating a photog.

Kidding.

I can't begin to tell you about the Palace of Fine Arts. That's like the most scenic place that I visited during this San Fran road trip and I have NOT ONE SINGLE GOOD SHOT OF THE PLACE!

Christmas in Universal Studios Hollywood.

2012-01-20T20:25:00.000+08:00

I just loved it. It was Christmas so the queue for EVERYTHING was super, duper looooong! But I managed to see everything and ride everything (but cowboys). I suck at writing about matter-of-fact stuff so this post is gonna sound very bland, just like the what-you-did-last-summer essays we had to write after every school break back in those days. Anyway, my favorite of all was the Studio Tour. It was a bit sad, though, to see for real that most buildings are actually just mock-up's and the most gripping shark scenes are shot in a pool with a shark as fake as a boob job. I am a bad photographer when it comes to recording interesting happenings because I am usually too caught up with everything to remember the camera around my neck.

Building mock-up's

Ok. Writing this is getting too boring to continue. I will, instead, post some bad, uncomposed, out-of-focus shots I managed to capture.

Flash flood! Wah!

The more exciting things got, the worse my photos turned out. Like this. Taken while, literally, jaw-dropping stunned over the crashed subway train that I simply held my camera up with an outstretched hand and clicked on the shutter... wtf.

Errr... the subway scene?

Wisteria Lane from Desperate Housewives.

Psycho!

War of the Worlds crash site.

End of Studio Tour. A lot more to be seen, I just never took any photos.

Water World.

The night ended with the lighting of the Grinch's Christmas tree.

And I walked out into the night madness! Good photos ahead to make up for the shitty shots :D

\m/

Sunsets and cowboys.

2012-01-11T06:18:00.000+08:00

In a matter of hours, I will be flying home to Penang. My stay here in the US has been pleasant and nothing short of memorable. One scary thing is that I find I enjoy being alone. Maybe it's only been a month, but there was never a moment that I felt lonely when I walk from aisle to aisle shopping for groceries in Walmart or Fry's, or when I step into my room after a day's work, drop everything and get ready for a soak in the hot tub until my skin wrinkles up. Not even when I switch off the lights and burrow myself under the comforter and the 6 pillows I have on the bed. There's a sort of healing effect about being alone and far away from familiar faces and places. It wasn't dreamlike. It was more of a detachment. The life I was living before this seems so distant, and obscure. I wonder what life in this past month will feel like when things get going again back in Penang.

I will certainly miss the beautiful desert sunset and the cloudless blue sky, so saturated it almost looks painted, and how the moon and the stars look so much bigger and closer than they are back home. But I guess that's about it. I can't see myself living in a desert for all my life. It's too brown and the greens too muted. Almost all the buildings are brown and the grass aren't the green you expect grass to be! Maybe that's why there's a saying that the grass is greener on the other side? Probably coined by a desert cowboy, maybe.

Oh, but cowboys are so sexy!

Obligatory new year post.

2012-01-03T22:42:00.002+08:00

2011 was not the least bit uneventful. Like any typical sippingsoda year, it was a roller coaster ride, a stroll in the park, a dip in the sea, and so much more. Life is always dishing out surprises, good and bad, and after so many years, I've come to love and embrace it with an open heart and an open mind. Of course, sometimes when things get bad, I may not sound this optimistic. But I can't ask for anything more exciting than this.

And the icing on the cake is that I spent the last days of December feasting on roasted crab and chardonnay in Pier 39, San Francisco, sinking my teeth into the juiciest filet mignon, paired with a glass of merlot, in a (replica) cowboy town. I end the year by dancing to the heart-thumping beats of the Fiesta Bowl block party in Tempe until I was all hot and sweaty on a supposedly cold winter's night, right in the centre of the action, a few feet in front of the big countdown screen.

(via Fiesta Bowl Block Party on Facebook)

Resolution for the new year:
1. LIVE

To the land of the free.

2011-12-15T15:53:00.000+08:00

Everything felt a tad dreamy, except for those nagging bad memories at the back of my mind that I have of airports. Did I mention I hate airports? I, myself, cannot imagine how many times I've stood there waving goodbye to people that I would never meet again. Only this time around, I was the one leaving.

And somehow, it felt normal. Like I've been doing this my whole life when in fact, it was the first time I was traveling alone.

Beautiful, isn't it? Taken before I board my flight from Penang to Hong Kong.

I filled my hours between Hong Kong to Los Angeles with romantic comedies. Funny how it was a 12-hour flight but I only managed 3 romcom's. I remembered dozing off, now and then. That couldn't possibly make up 6 hours unawares, could it? And I was very well-fed. Almost as if they were fattening us, passengers, up to be slaughtered. First, there were peanuts. Then, there was braised chicken in lemon thyme caper sauce with mashed potatoes, green beans and carrots, with dessert of ice cream and fruits. Out of nowhere (I lost all sense of time up there amongst the clouds), came instant soup noodles and just before we landed, sausage and egg breakfast with yogurt and fruits, plus a very tasty croissant.

After a long trip, what could be more comforting than the sight of... PILLOWS!!! 6 OF THEM!!! 2 MORE IN THE CUPBOARD!!! WHAT THE _?

This Used to be My Playground

2011-12-15T15:07:00.001+08:00

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need of a friend
Why did it have to end?
And why do they always say don't look back?
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why because life is short
And before you know, you're feeling old
And you heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well, that's too much to ask.

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need of a friend
Why did it have to end?
And why do they always say no regrets?
But I wish that you were here with me
Well, then, there's hope yet
I can see your face in our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say.

This used to be our playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy.

This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me.
- Madonna; Pettibone, Shep

Does it take a dream?

2011-12-06T02:14:00.001+08:00

Standing across the road from my home, I noticed the state of decadence it is in. A sight that only three of us can see. Void, cold and dilapidated at the core. Each one of us had a part in bringing our world to this state - a world once beautiful, colorful, warm and welcoming - and none of us ever tried hard enough to stop its slow death. I see the tears that could have turned into laughter, the anger into joy, the hate into love. There is no use in crying myself to sleep at night, or you to be lost in reminiscence, and you to be cold and steely, if only we could take the first step but always, nothing materializes.

For whatever it takes, this day on, I will shed my pride, drop my defenses, take my first step. I have always known my priorities well, yet I can't seem to break down the walls that keep me alone, cold and distant to actually make it mean anything to anyone. Now, it is the only thing I want for us, as in the days of coloring books and story-telling. Just plain togetherness.

We are all we'll ever have.

There is no better time than this.

Wallpapers.

2011-12-04T18:52:00.000+08:00

You know, I have this tendency to change my desktop wallpaper ever so often. And that was exactly what I was trying to do at 5:55am on a Sunday morning. Most of the time, I have soothing nature or cityscape wallpaper on my work laptop to remind myself the world is still out there - and beautiful too - while I slog away helping a chip-maker giant with a net worth of $124B (as reported by Blue Glass on Nov 22) generate more income. But this wallpaper thingy has started to cease inspiring me. I would think having those silly looking wallpapers like I have on my home desktop would serve as a good perk-me-up but if I were to accidentally flash a glimpse of it during a meeting, that would be, err... somewhat inappropriate, wouldn't it? Can you imagine having a serious presentation on the return of investment of a certain completed project, and suddenly you see this peering out from the huge projected screen?

Exactly.

And look what I found - a simplistic yet awesome set of wallpapers. If you like what you see, hop over to AHOODIE.com for more good stuff!

Prologue, again. To nothing?

2011-12-03T16:26:00.001+08:00

I have been blogging since 2002(?). But almost every month, I feel like I have just started. Posts kept on getting deleted - some due to it being too private on reread, some revealed too much, others just seemed to sound lame and out of character after some time, e.g. the mek mek craze where I can't stop myself from going 'mmmekk!!!' at the end of every sentence.

Mmmekk!!!

Yeah, so anyway, being the person that I am - which is not being able to stop myself from talking - I have once again decided to just channel all the conversations that goes on in my head onto this blog, knowing that way, I do not flip anyone out by my incessant erratic and/or emotional outpour resulting in utter confusion. Of course, some may argue that I don't talk that much anyway. Believe me, if you think that, you have not spend enough time with me.

Someone once threw me off track when he asked if I was aware of what impression I was giving or what I was actually revealing when I said the things that I said and if I should be revealing so much of myself to the whole wide world (yeah, I know you're reading this :D). That got me thinking. After rereading my posts and removing some, I've come to realize that it's not so easy to form a proper or full image of me from just a few posts. Noticed the conversational posts and story posts all sounded so different from one another? If anything can be derived from them, it must be that I'm trippin' on some hallucinogenics or suffering from bipolar disorder.

Maybe I am ;)

You decide.

Mmmekk!!! (I just had to do that one last time)

* I wonder if I might just delete this post when I wake up tomorrow?

The memory of rain.

2011-12-02T21:59:00.000+08:00

Do you feel how dreadful the silence is? Broken only by the occasional raindrops from the memory of rain. I sit waiting for uncertainty to confirm it's ambivalence in all surety. The thunderstorm has died into a cold, wet night. I am tempted to let it slip into day. And day into night. And night, day. But the hours won't come.

There is no warmth in this old, familiar place. I am as cold as when I first left grace.

Even December is disintegrating before my eyes. I am no longer able to uphold it's magic.

Things to do before I die (because I fail to fulfill these resolutions year after year).

2011-11-22T21:14:00.001+08:00

1. Let go of the past.
2. Let go of the guilt.
3. Don't waste time.

Fate.

2011-11-05T16:57:00.000+08:00

I packed my bags and took the seven thirty train
Left you standing in the cold winter rain
I saw in your eyes the words you cannot say
I wished you had said them anyway.

You tried to reach out to me with calls I never returned
Tried building back the bridges that I had burned
I knew from your voice the pain that you tried to hide
I wished I had never hurt you like I had.

And now I find myself back to where you are once again
Only this time my heart stops when your eyes meet mine
Then you turn around and walk out of my sight
Why is it that everything goes wrong just when I feel that it is right?

*Word token courtesy of YN.

Addiction.

2011-10-17T19:42:00.000+08:00

Hello, Saturday night.

I can feel your glitzy lights and reverberating beats beckoning but what I want most now is to die. To be enveloped in silence. No laughter. No tears. Only nothingness.

I think of ways that I can die. One that will leave me untraceable as though I disappear with the night. It will be perfect if no one feels my absence and with time, not even memory remains. Maybe I will just be an unfamiliar face in a dream.

I revel in this morbid thought until it starts to fade away; drag myself up onto my feet and change into a silver cocktail dress. As the fingers of Death slowly slips away, I am overcome by a sense of void. A void that aches for Death to come crawling back from the nether regions of my mind. The pain is so real that it is crippling. I reach out to light a cigarette and down a glass of scotch; grab the car keys and drove out into the warm Saturday night.

*Word token courtesy of Sherlene.

***

Do you see Death when you laughed along with me to my silly antics?
Do you hear Death behind every sweet nothings that I whisper into your ears?
Do you feel Death when you hold me near?

Rain.

2011-10-09T07:22:00.000+08:00

He had wanted to go home. I dropped him off, watched as he sauntered off into the alley, lost behind a curtain of rain. I sighed as I leaned back against the seat and shifted the gear into drive. I could barely make out the road ahead with the psychedelic light circles clouding over the windscreen and my wiper of no use. For a few seconds, I fumbled with my phone to call up a friend, any friend, but gave up when I had to manoeuvre a corner. I drove around the city streets thinking of old, forgotten faces. Somehow, rain does this to me - getting all mellow and sentimental. Pulling up at a 24-hour mart, I turned off the engine, brave the rain to grab myself a six-pack and hurried back to the car, catching pearls of raindrops in the waves of my hair. I lit a cigarette. It somehow tasted bitter on my lips so I flicked it out the window into a puddle.

I took a few gulps from a can of Heineken and remembered long ago the days of hot chocolate, a book and a cosy armchair by the window on rainy days like this. It was definitely happier then. But tonight, those bygone days remained a fading polaroid that would lose its memory sooner than later and I could no longer turn back.

I thought of dying and how I would want to die in the rain. At least, if no one else did, the heavens cried for me.

*Word token courtesy of Phaik San.

Stay.

2011-09-11T00:09:00.000+08:00

I can hear the skylark singing,
singing you a serenade
For all the lovely years
that you and I have made.

The gentle breeze
holds us in its embrace;
Soft whispers
murmuring prayers of grace
For your hand holding mine
as I walk down the road of life.

I remember all the words
spoken from your lips,
Even though I may not be
all that you taught me to be.

In my eyes,
I've failed you in many ways,
But in your eyes
I'm still your sweet success today.

But now,
when tomorrow seems so far away
As we fight our way through today
I pray that Hope won't let me down
And you'll be here with me
even only for another day.

c. 2002

No qualms.

2011-09-07T22:26:00.000+08:00

In a crowded night market, the noodle man grabs his young wife by the hair and shoves her onto the ground. Her money pouch drops from her hand, spilling silvers onto the muddy after-rain sidewalk. Terrified doe-eyes meet his hateful glare, pleading without a sound. His fist slams into her cheekbone. A slight whimper escapes her lips. A blow lands just above her lips. Then, another. And another. Time and again. No screams, only little gasps and whimpers.

He straightens up. Her face a crimson mess.

Wiping his hands on his apron, he resumes serving his customer. Merrily.

*Word token courtesy of Kuan Min.

Song.

2011-09-04T20:49:00.000+08:00

I'm sure she thought of you
as she stood in her wedding dress
Your first love will always be
everything the world is not
But now it's time to let her go
Come along, we've got to go now.

I'm sure he looked splendid
as he slipped a ring onto her finger
Sometimes he really seemed like
the best time I've ever had
But now is not the time to wonder
Come along, I've got to go now.

And here we are making magic of the past
Burning love letters back to dust.

I can write a song that leaves tears in your eyes
I can write a song that leaves a smile on your lips
I can write so much more but it may never mean a thing
So I'll write you a song that leaves music in your heart.

I don't really know much
of the lives that you've lived til now
Would it matter anyhow
when time is all we've got
Drink up your coffee and then we'll
Play, this little game called life.

I'd told a million lies
Lived more than a thousand lives
But where will my heart be
when the world is at my feet?
Did it ever crossed your mind?
Take my hand, let's go with the night.

And here we are making magic of the past
Burning love letters back to dust.

I can write a song that leaves tears in your eyes
I can write a song that leaves a smile on your lips
I can write so much more but it may never mean a thing
So I'll write you a song that leaves music in your heart.

Sooner or later we will both be gone
Tonight will be tomorrow's memories
For all the moments that will be forgotten
I hope we remember this one last song.

I can write a song that leaves tears in your eyes
I can write a song that leaves a smile on your lips
I can write so much more but it may never mean a thing
So I'll write you a song that leaves music in your heart.

Stupefy.

2011-08-31T19:52:00.000+08:00

The first night was madness. Flames, like fiery hands, grappled and pulled us towards the gates of hell, burning as hot as our sins. Our minds fled with our souls, only to be caught in a psychedelic whirlpool of desire that left us speechless and breathless for the next few months.

I gathered your heart and mine, then I left. It was the fourth month, and April brought flowers and showers.

It must have been a year and a half. I turned my back from the giggles and the laughter of a crowded ballroom to catch you strutting in in your usual swagger. I had wanted to call to you, but your name got lost on my lips, my heart stopped beating and my mind forgot to tell me what to do.

I stood motionless.

*Word token courtesy of Terry.

Atonement.

2011-07-23T17:56:00.002+08:00

She fluttered her eyelids, trying to make sense of the time and place. Her vision cleared a little, and the light streaks gave way to objects that told her she was in the bedroom. From the brightness around her, she decided it must be late morning and that she was on her back, on the floor. There was a metal chink when she tried to move her hands, reminding her of the chains that bound her wrist to the bedpost. Her wrist felt sore and she couldn't remember how long she has been tied up like this.

As she gradually recovered her senses, an excruciating stabbing pain reverberated from her ribs. The boot mark was still apparent on her white nightgown where he had stomped on her the night before. Bruises and welts, painted blue and red on the canvas that was her damask skin.

Even in this state, she would've stretched out her arm if he had asked her to, stifled her screams as he cut into her flesh with the blunt blade of his rusty switchblade.

But the pain still could not make up for the wrong that she had forgotten she had done.

*Word token courtesy of Kah Soon.

99.

2011-07-16T02:18:00.000+08:00

There used to be a girl my age who lived across the street from me, back in the house where I grew up. I called her 99. I never could make out what was on her mind even though we spent everyday together for 15 long years. We used to race each other, running bare-footed on the tar road. She would always let me win. I knew that little fact only years later as I look back to those childhood days. I never knew the reason why. Being with her was like going on a roller-coaster - scary and exciting at the same time.

99 was a pretty good story-teller. On rainy days, when the streets got too wet, we would lock ourselves up in the bedroom with the curtains drawn shut and she would make up stories, then stopping halfway, expecting me to end it for her. These stories would leave me with feelings that I never could put into words long after the stories themselves have been forgotten.

99 was not the nickname I gave to her. If I remember correctly, she had made it up herself. Her codename, as she called it.

The last time I saw her, we were both 19. 99 was sitting on the bonnet of my car, an old faded mustard Mazda. I stood leaning against the passenger door. The sun was setting and dark clouds stretched across the sky. She looked so far away as though at any minute she would disappear into nothingness right before my eyes.

What are you thinking of? I asked.

Instead of replying, she made me promise to never forget that day, with the wind in her hair, and that every year, on that same day, I would come back here to the place and time that belong to only the two of us.

She's got the wind in her hair. I couldn't stop thinking.

That was the very last time I saw 99.

I still go back to that place in time every year without fail. I know this hope that I have of seeing her again will never fade with time. Sometimes I wonder where she is as I imagine the life that she must be living up somewhere out there in this vast world.

I hope she lives good.

*Word token courtesy of Kuan Min.

Reminiscing.

2011-07-11T21:19:00.007+08:00

Looking out to the sea from our balcony, I can almost taste cigarette on my lips. It’s a wonder how death erases the mortal cravings for the fundamentals like food and nicotine, but leaves vivid memories of your life past. I wince as I turn towards the deck chair that you used to laze in on evenings like this, half expecting you to blow a long stream of smoke into my face, but there was only emptiness. I remember running my fingers through your long, brown hair, and getting them caught in the wet tangles while you giggled at my confusion. Peering into the ashtray, I catch the sight of the extinguished butts of my Dunhill Reds and your Dunhill Lights. How long has it been left that way? I have no way of telling. Time seems lost to me. I walk into the bedroom, lie down on the bed and remember your silky, soft skin pressing against my body.

I know now that death does not bring respite to the broken. It is an infinite playback on the memories and the pain.

Where are you now?

***

My vision is blurry. Oh, yes, it’s clearing up now. The bedroom is coming into focus. I feel a sense of disassociation or displacement. I have no need to get the words right. All that doesn’t matter now that I am dead. Am I dead? I dart towards the living room. Then, from room to room. No signs of you. I watch the last rays of the sun setting beyond the horizon. You are supposed to be home now, standing on the balcony bathing in the sunset, with me on the deck chair. Where are you? Why aren’t you home? For one frantic moment, a sickening thought sweeps over me. What if you are gone? I head towards the closet, swing the door wide open and there – all your pressed white shirts just as I have left them. But where are you? As darkness hangs over the living, gulping down the orange sun until there is only whiteness of the moon rays left, dread creeps into me. I trace my fingers around your half-used Ralph Lauren’s Romance, flick the cover over but there is no scent. All that is lost with death, I guess. I can almost see the surprise on your face the day I bought you that perfume. We were almost strangers then. Where have those times gone? Smoke-filled nights in empty bars, dancing on the beach, stuffing popcorns into each others’ mouths in cinemas. I lie down on my side of the bed, missing the warmth of your body.

Death does not bring respite to the broken. It is just an infinite playback on the memories and the pain.

Where are you now?

*Word token courtesy of 3kinhead.

Homecoming.

2011-06-27T22:07:00.000+08:00

Out in the fields across the street was where I used to lie, alone and eager-eyed, waiting to catch a plane as it flew passed like a gigantic, loud mechanical bird. Sometimes I had wondered if it would land right there in the field, then I would watch as the passengers trickled out and into the long awaiting arms of loved ones. I had smiled to myself, getting light-headed on borrowed happiness. The field had held so much possibilities. And dreams.

As a child, the field had seemed endless.

As a child, the plane had seemed harmless.

I am not a child anymore.

Leila.

2011-06-19T19:38:00.003+08:00

Did you foresee this blood-spattered end, my friend? The heart that got snagged on the jagged edge of your indecison, now lay torn and tattered at your feet. My fingers closed around its feebleness, cradling it in the palm of my hands and I felt an overwhelming sense of pain in the cavity which used to hold it safe from harm. I looked at you with eyes that did not remember how to cry. It must had been hours that I stood there with my heart out in my hands.

The silence was deafening.

Leila, I whispered.

With a nod, I turned my back on you. There was something more precious that I had to save. And I am sorry it was not you.

You know I forgive you for all the things that you can never say.