the story starts today...

The smell of cinnamon feeds the hungry nostrils.
The self, curious and inquisitive, yearning to learn everything there is..
The bubbling curosity peeks in more,
as she remain in wait for the one, day by day, the youthful lass search in vain,
for that right moment, for that right feelings, for that right man.
For the love, that she has yet to comprehend.
it remains a mystery, an ambiguous word in her dictionary.
the definition not yet discovered and felt.
she creates her make-believe-world.
trying to find the happiness in her own famous-happy-ends.
the girl turns hungry for it,
when she sees her friends. one by one, all well fed.
may not be the right kind of food.
sometimes it tastes nice, sometimes it tastes bad,
giving you occasional tummyaches.
the girl cringed and winced as she feels her tummy growled,
and the heart, just being pieced back into one, chorusing in the growls.
its gone tired yearning, tired waiting for the right food to come..
assured with the one-in-this-world safety health label..
the label, with her name on it.

she breathe the air of caffine,
so tantalizing, so enticing, so inspiring.
the smell of art, the coffeebeans appear exotic to her.
something alluring and mysterious about it.
the poems she has on hand sets her into more thinking.
each white hair determines a new set of troubles and thoughts

The sudden rush of melancholy silences her usual humour.
even though the poems are simply just examinable syllabus,
her emotions brimmed from the literary writings on life, on the sufferings on the other side of the world.
sometimes the grass is not always greener on the other side..
she felt she took the very steps of the pilgrim and feeling the gloom loom.

she heaves a few sighs, just staring at the tourists who had just arrived.
hearing mixtures of japanese, cantonese....
The last paper's on thursday.
finally the break will come soon.
this expedition seemed never ending.
and this station, for a whole 2 years. seemed the most strenous among all
many times, she break.
the flaws and the mistakes.. keeps the tears brimming in the endless pit,
her tears never dries.
as she stumble into the myriad of thoughts about India,
a foreign voice penetrated through the string on thoughts...
she turned and sees an English couple.
they took an interest with what she was doing and strike up a conversation
they seemed to be in their late 50s, early 60s.
but despite their age, they look as fit as a fiddle.
their bond were inseparable, but when her husband left the table,
she said that it was good to have sometime alone when you have been together with someone for so long.. 33 years she said.. that you can make decisions without being obliged to compromise with the other..
its a form of freedom that couples will sacrifice..
they travel together at times, alone at times...
she watches in envy at the old blissful couple.
the lady shared loads of things.
some that even inspired her..
like doing what we want and like to do,
instead of doing what we have to.

As she munches on the McSpicy she grabs in her long fingers,
her face turns red (duh, its McSPICY for goodness sake.) she feels her entire nasal passage clogging up.
her hammocks containing some water now..
she can't take spiciness, not so much, yet.
putting down the half eaten lunch,
she left her seat.
the mirror shows how red her face was
the chilling water ran from the tap, through her fingers.
she looked up again.
she sees ME