supersonic gran

BEFORE @ 7.30pmAFTER @ 7.34pm

2517

i had time, while waiting to see the doc at the polyclinic, to memorise my queue number a hundred times over. no, a thousand times over. yet, when the display screen flashed '2517' to indicate that it was finally my turn, i failed to respond.see, i fell asleep. it was a kind lady who alerted me. otherwise, the wait could jolly well extend into eternity. how did she know my number? well, earlier on, for some reason, she had asked me what my number was. the little blessings in life. i'm thankful.

of cosmic proportion

MY WORLD CRASHED ON ME.

literally.

my inaugural blogspace was thrown out.

unwittingly by yours truly.

i felt caved in and incapacitated.

it's as if a part of me had been torn away - by force.

i'm not sure of its whereabouts in the virtual space now

but as i try to reclaim it - with futile results,

i feel a nudge to claim another spot.

as i deliberated, the inspiration came.

what an exhilarating feel...

exit your time zone and join me

in exploring a whole new dimension -

of cosmic proportion.

february fares - i love you

a few mouthfuls

my protest of “no time already” definitely fell on deaf ears as i was ready to fly out of the door. my granny says it's just a few mouthfuls. ah... the waft from the kitchen.. my resolute dissipated as I saw the stuff. surely the earthly race against time can stall for heavenly moments.

i took the plate from my granny and put a few strands into my mouth. they slid down, effortlessly. smooth and savoury. the sweet juice of the pork bits glossed my lips which i licked away with relish. the smile in my granny’s heart : the other heavenly moment.

what are you waiting for?

WAITING to be glued. x-ray showed no glass shards embedded in my palm. stitch? the nurse asked. no way. i said. i took some pix to while the time away. thought i could escape the jab though.

it was excruciating.

never thought i’d ever be at A&E. as i waited, a guy limped past me. i wonder what caused his limp. a middle-aged woman with her mom in wheelchair beside her, patiently waiting for their turn. a young man, who had obviously gotten into an accident, was wheeled out. with toothless grins, he chatted with a friend beside him. an old man, with his head bandaged, was on one of those 'wheel-able beds'. why was there no one with him? a young lady at the registration counter,

handcuffed and with two policemen by her side.

why is waiting so poignant in such a space? is it because the shuttle between life and death is more keenly felt within the confines?

in the same space, one can be waiting to live or to die.

prawn lovers

i have reason to believe that every grandma loves to cook. especially when her children appreciates it. last night, my brother came home. she whipped up a storm – kangkong, pomfret, meat balls, soup dish... food offering is a language of love. that’s how it runs in my family. today, look what I have for lunch. ‘lovey dovey’ prawn noodles.