I stare at the spreading red dot on my Indian cotton. I shake my head in a half smile at where beef stew should not have been. It's been a long week as many have been in the last few months. So I guess I was allowed the stew slip-up.
I jump into a cab on a Friday and speed away from Arab St. It turns out to be a quiet evening, and I'm surprisingly pleased that it is.
I caught a movie at lunch today, a local movie. And despite the relative short time it took of my day, it made a difference to my day. The movie stirred something in me, as gently a leave may tingle in the gentlest of breezes.
It reminded me to dream. It reminded that its okay to be romantic. We live in a forgetful world where it buries all that is pink, fluffy and cotten-candyish deep within the silent stores of iur hearts where hardly any light reaches. So we need such reminders; the Singaporean movie let light into that deep cellar that working life has helped darken. I was reminded of fighting for romantic love, not simply going with convenient love. Love had to be fought for, with scars and hurts.
And then I was reminded of her. Her somewhere now in Venice, her somewhere holding the spare key to that dark cellar where all the pink and fluffy were stored. With friends all around wearing pessimism as if it was the latest fashion trend, I do stop and wonder sometimes whether convenient live was the only real love in our world today. "Long distance relationship? Good luck man," I can still hear them say.
Has consumer technology of today turned against us? Have we humans spawned our very own doomsday? What technology has done was make daily living more convenient and supposedly more efficient. But have we allowed this thirst for convenience gnaw into certain areas that is not always about convenience and efficiency? Love, ethics, literature...
I don't know. Do you?
