Jewels in the sky

Just for that brief moment there, last night, I thought it was you sitting on the bench of the bus depot waiting for me to get back. Just for that two seconds my heart did a little leap and was glad that perhpas, you do believe in surprises after all, especially since I haven't seen you in a not-so-long time of two weeks. But then, that leap of joy and those expectations and dreams were just mere irrational thoughts because I knew really, it would be rather impossible for you to show up on such a cold night, one week before your scheduled arrival back. It's my fault to have hoped but I guess, that was the only thing I could cling on to, preventing me from heading back down that road where I sink into the whole idea of being alone once more.

I really miss you - so please come back soon.

It was a rather long flight back to melbourne last night. A flight that was symbolic in alot of ways. It meant the end of my nua-ing holiday, where school begins tommorrow. It meant that I should and ought to have learnt the meaning of being stronger. It meant that this trip home should have given me enough strength to last through the next semester. I guess I will have to, or at least I will try to sort myself out and be stronger.

It's an empty house now. No noise, no one. just this stillness and quietness that though it doesn't scare, it's not comforting either. It's silent. So so so silent. ooh. shucks I've to pay my rent. have to do that tommorrow. Ah this reminds me....

Tiziano Terzani in his book "Earthbound travels in the Far East: A fortune teller once told me" said this of Singapore:

Every city has its own way of representing itself, of putting it's best foot forward. Singapore's is the airport. The airport is its made-up face, its shop window, its visiting card. People arrive and depart there, and they really need see nothing else, the essence of all that Singapore has to show: its efficiency, its cleanliness, its order, its status as Asia's biggest supermarket of consumer goods, futility and respectability.

I'm not faulting the author on his impressions of Singapore, the apparent materialism and wealth that Singaporeans have as indicated within the chapters of the book because each, is entitled to his own impressions, and perhaps, it's also because he has seen alot more. Travelling through places that that one, I can only ever dream of trudging through. But you know, to me, Changi airport is more than just a visitor's welcome, the good-first impression that our little island tries to give, to impress those that don't stay for more than 2 hours. It's familar ground, it's a place that I always look out for when I'm high up in the sky on my return 8 hour flight. It's the place where I know once I step outside those gates, I'm home. Home to familarity and family. To friends after being away and alone for some time.

Changi airport is an indication that I'm really home. Really home. Another semester conquered and another semester closer to when I really really can go home.

P.S

Sometimes I wonder, really and truely, if it was meant to be
You in your own world and I, in mine.
I wonder why those paths had to cross
When it seemingly appears that differences are aplenty

We are poles apart and there's no denying
It hurts to see
Dreadful to feel
I just don't understand why it has to be like this.

You in your place and I, in mine.