Alone again, naturally.

Gilbert O'Sullivan's voice is repeatedly coming through my earphones, with the squeals of kids playing nearby squeezing through the supposedly sound-tight technology of my earphones. But O'Sullivan's words are not lost.

The two young sisters at the table in front focus on tackling their chocolate muffins; the intent in their gaze show the entirety they are putting in to that one task before them, undistracted. They maneuver their mouths to ensure the most effective bite. There! Done! And they smile. So does their father, so do I. Now all that remains are crumbs on empty plates, half-empty cups of liquid and abandoned plastic food packaging; the man in black comes over and in one motion, removes all of it. All the joy of taking the first sip of coffee, the glee of tearing open the muffin packaging, all gone in a single moment.

| construction@uni |
do we always think building new things is progress? how about simply working to improve the existing?

Contemplative wet English spring
Looking out beyond the glass panels, I see the sun pushing its way from behind the first clouds of spring. Despite the sun, the ground is soaked from earlier showers and wind chills are enough to negate the feel-goodness of the sunlight. Similarly, recent rare streaks of feel-goodness in my life are slightly tainted by the woes of others around. I cannot help but feel their pains, their troubles. Just like the start of this wet English spring, I have been contemplative. But my contemplations have somehow steered clear (barely) from the iffy state of brooding; rather, I have been artistically inspired of late. However, once in awhile I do step into a pothole of melancholy. But that's life isn't it? Its a sunny day of good luck and feel-good experiences. And without warning, you accidentally step into a pothole of melancholy, insecurities and contemplation, and sometimes you twist your ankle. You take time to regain your footing, and with a grimace you carry on.

The most important bit about this silly careless story is: you grimace, but carry on.

| the hope and anticipation of spring |
uni of warwick



| evading the clutches of winter |
above whitefields@ uni of warwick

| an artistic endeavour |

Again, O'Sullivan's voice comes through amidst my random thoughts, and I hear the words once more, as I spot the man who sits at the same spot everyday, pouring over his papers and coffee.


...can only say what you already know.
When you twist your ankle, it is nice to have someone there to help you up and help you walk on, a crutch. But often in life, we have to pick ourselves up and carry on walking alone. Persons around me of late have been facing quandaries, trepidations, and have shared their stories with me. But can I do much? Perhaps the reality is harsh; that we have to move ahead, alone. Friends can only say what you already know, not do what only you can. Friends around us can only inspire, but we have to take action.

So O'Sullivan's lyrics do make sense when he croons from 1972: "alone again, naturally".

| tocil woods @ uni of warwick |

Uncle T