Rambles

I write & shoot (photographs) occasionally

Month: May, 2013

At Dusk (Part Three)

She awoke to an empty house the next morning. “Julian? Julian?” She called. But he was long gone, and she’d known it too. Sighing, she slumped back down on the bed.

Faraway echoes of past laughter reverberated throughout the house, and light patterns seemed to form vivid images before her eyes. Everywhere she looked there was a captured memory; every part of the house a trigger, initiating a replay of past scenes. She looked upon image after image, reliving ghost memories that would no longer hold true for a long time to come. In her head, vestiges of his song floated around, as if she was living a dream.

But he was gone, and no number of illusions could amount to reality.

 

To an onlooker, her life might not have looked like it had changed much. Every morning, she would still be sitting near the door, crafting jewellery and other ornaments from old beads and jewels. Although she was young, she was rather skilled at it. Neighbours occasionally walked in to buy her handmade crafts, and would engage in small talk with her. They always asked her when he would be back, and she always didn’t know.

However, her ignorance never seemed to faze them, for they never stopped asking her the same question. It was comforting to know that everyone else missed him too.

 

She watched the sunset every evening, just as they had together when he was around. Although she was alone, she enjoyed watching it just the same. On some days, she felt especially connected to him, and she knew he was watching it from where he was now.

Above everything, she looked forward to his letters.

 

Dear Azalea,

How have you been? Is everything the same? I’m fine, don’t you worry about me. Life in the mines is dark and even dangerous sometimes, but I have met some great people here. I guess we’re all working towards the common goal of a better future.

I managed to sneak out during a short break just now, and it’s the first sunset I’ve seen in weeks. The view here is breathtaking. I wish you were here to see it.

I hope you’re doing well back there. I’m counting down the years to when I can go back. Soon, maybe, if I work harder to earn more money. Until then, I’ll be with you in mind and spirit.

                                                                                                               Julian

They both waited as years slipped by this way.

(to be continued…)

At Dusk (Part Two)

They could not afford anything exquisite, for they had almost nothing. All the beauty they experienced lay purely in shared memories, those enveloped in the process of growing up and the countless sunsets they had watched together.

The one that evening was extraordinary. Rose-tinted clouds seemed to billow out of the sun in thick streams, and the sky was painted a striking pink by intense rays of the dying day. Soft scarlet shades slowly faded to a pale purple that crept in from the corners of the sky. They watched together as the sky darkened to a midnight blue.

He turned to her. “I’m leaving today.” 

The terror in her eyes was evident. And he knew there were many insecurities and doubts she harboured. But she bit her lip determinedly and nodded her head. In her gaze he saw trust, raw and complete, and perhaps something more. Something he did not want to admit.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep, softly humming a song of hope and victory. In the dim candlelight, flickering shadows danced across his face, making him look older than the young boy of fourteen he really was. His voice filled the house with a sense of warmth and belonging, comforting and seemingly tangible. She was not awake for long.

Blowing out the flame, he bid the shadows goodbye. Grey smoke curled up in an intriguing pattern and soon disappeared, leaving no trace of him. She slept soundly that night.

(to be continued…)

At Dusk (Part One)

Her eyes reflected the setting sun, falling, falling from the sky. She watched and watched until darkness reigned once more, and her eyes settled back into a deep brown as they always were. Sighing, she looked back down at the pile of unwashed dishes, and the floor which was spread thickly with a layer of dust. The sound of running water formed a hollow echo in the empty house.

Watching the sunset every evening was an escape for her. On some days, giant grey clouds obscured every trace of a beautiful sky. On other days, varying hues of orange and pink, and when she was lucky, purple, adorned the sky in an ever-changing gradient of colours. It was something magical, something that she looked forward to- a burst of colour in her dull and lonely life. And in a magical world where she was lost in her own thoughts, she could remember him more clearly.

(to be continued…)

13

What if there was a thirteenth hour

Unparalleled reign of the unlucky number

In truth we would believe no such thing

But how would it hurt to wonder?

 

Flying horses crash through the windows

And toys creak and come to life

Magic portals are opened beneath the pillows

And we fall deep, plunge and dive

 

Enter another world unlike our own

People unlike those we know

Iridescent wings glimmer in the moonlight

Flower people frolic in the meadow

Colourful tails swish and splash in the sea

You’ve never felt more at home in the land of the imaginary

 

Dance and twirl until your feet hurt

With the magic that makes you soar

Let melodies fill the air of the beautiful garden

Croon until your throat is sore

 

But would time ever accommodate thee

Force too proud to gain control over

Wave goodbye to the universe of dreams

Where thousands of awake, sleeping minds hover

 

You will be back tomorrow, you swear

Convinced as a child that it will always be there

DSCN5675

Magic happens in Disneyland. The firework display was absolutely amazing, and a magical end of our trip. I guess we left our princess dreams behind in Disneyland, in the place where magic happened, in the place we would never forget. I always had the impression that the second photograph looks like some sort of nuclear […]

Dark Butterfly

Ebony wings of artfully woven silk

Silhouette of a beautiful being

Flitting around conspicuously

Afloat on the lightest dream

 

In stark contrast with the light

Creature of dark flight

Appearing shockingly ethereal

Could a soul be hidden within

Taking refuge in a new world?

 

It stops on the wall, unmoving

Narrows its wings

Captures the tiniest shaft of light

A ray that almost glows

Against a lithe body of shadows

 

It falls to the ground in the morning

With the soft whisper

Terribly still and exposed

And there it lies

With the hope daybreak brings

The coming of dusk and darkness

Coffeeshop

Chatters and noises surround

To create an overwhelming cacophony of sound

Foam threatens to spill from glistening wet cups

As clinking ice float atop the golden beer

Old men laugh with crinkled eyes

Gesticulating wildly for conversations never suffice

 

Appetizing aromas of various cuisines

Fill the air and tempt our tummies

People decked with plates look frantically around

For customers lost in the crowd

Nowhere to be found

 

Worries forgotten for the night

As people engage in stories over bottles of beer

Packs of cigarettes adorn the tables

Black smoke billows and chokes

Seemingly a bonding activity for young blokes

 

I eat my food in small bites

Savoring its taste

Letting the activity around

Sink in

Such is my country’s coffeeshop culture

Cloying to some

Comforting to many

 

A feeling of home

An atmosphere of family

 

 

Speechless

You shall never speak, she said

And so I never did

Beautiful eyes, they said I had

The green of distant meadows

I smile helplessly

Lips make not a sound of thanks

Happiness no faraway dream

Almost natural pretense

 

I listened in while they spoke

The foreign sounds they made

Mine was a faulty contraption

Doomed to never relate

 

Cursed to be silent

Bare whispers escape not my trembling lips

A life amid noise

And the unsettling silence within

Thrown off balance

Sworn off sound

Faster and faster I fall

As the silence surrounds me once more

Seeing the World: Hong Kong (Disneyland)

This is an adapted version of the Lion King Musical in Disneyland, which was really good. The lion in the picture is actually just some sort of robotic device, and its mouth moves when it talks and it can even blink and shake his head. Its resemblance to a live lion was just a tad creepy. Technology really is amazing.

I really like watching musicals. The colour and vibrance, action, dancing and songs just really appeal to me. There are so many aspects of the arts that a single musical can capture, and the actors for this musical did a really good job. I’ve watched “Wicked” and “Matilda the Musical” too, and I really, really loved Wicked.

The cool thing is that the audience for this particular show comprised largely of singers from various choirs, since the main reason for this trip to Hong Kong was for the Winter Choral Festival. We even got to perform at Disneyland as part of the Disney Performing Arts and I think that was an added bonus.:)

Seeing the World: Hong Kong (Disneyland)

I know many would say that carousels are for kids. But don’t you think it’s a matter of perspective? We were all kids once, and I’m sure most people would have gone on the carousel when they were little, thinking that there could be nothing more fun than that. Now, we see things in another light.

Growing up changes our perspectives on life. As we meet more people and discover more about the real world that might have once been hidden from us, we begin to see things in a different way.

We might not want to go on the carousel anymore, but we can still take it as a reminder of all those happy childhood memories, and the times when we believed we could take over the world.

Being a child was good.