fifty-five around the thatches

"i think i stepped on something." jack climbed up the beanstalk, or was it some sort of a tamarind vine that only grows in far mountainous forest landscapes of mainland asia.

"but i am not jack." or so we think.

we turned a fifty-five a week ago, a quarter meter away, snooping just around the thatches, in eve's humble garden.



the other night, a young man was traversing his way home, embarked on a public bus, frantically waiting for the roads to lose sight of tall skyscrapers and graffiti walls, away from carnation grills and early-bird profile banners for a future local elections. the young man anticipated something he could not direct his attention clearly at - he wavered from the left bus window to the driver, and back to the right bus window beside him, glanced outside and saw the multitude of cement faces gradually disappear behind him. he felt re-assured, and as he glanced towards the night, he saw an ever familiar face smile down at him before the clouds swept her away.

he remembered very well what he unconsciously blurted out to his colleagues, and it somehow troubled him - the very conception that - "i strongly feel that i am not of this world, and i have dreamed this for the longest time that by the time i reach mid-age, someone from far away will fetch me and take me away to my real home," as he did feel alien to the very place he grew up to know as home.

blasa subtly played as he felt his mobile phone vibrate from within his knapsack. a message from lanexang came and read phong gives his regards. he tried reading your message but could not make any sense from it. he asked if you remember what happened in loohangpabh. they must be drinking he thought, and what did happen in loohangpabh that had to be remembered and emphasized in a drinking session. does he mean noi? i do remember her quite well as she even manages to haunt me in my dreams. she did manage to haunt him, seeing her barge teasingly inside his room, frolic young and naked to his bed, and slide within his covers. he remembered her very well indeed.

she also dreamt of you, phong said laughingly. he asked if you want her number so you can contact her. and he had to be the main subject of their drinking session - it could not be about the dream of course as it was his unilateral unconscious gesture of his fantasy about her. but if she did dream about him, he relished the idea that it was a fated cosmic meeting to consummate their desires for each other. i have her number already. although i'd be more interested to know about vilay's number.

then he realized the bus had reached its final stop, more or less ten kilometers from where he had to disembark. late at night, without any recourse to go back, he scrambled away from the terminal in the middle of nowhere. finding a guesthouse hidden by patches of rice fields and grasslands, he knocked for a room. after paying fifty, he was given a key, a towel, and a bottle of water, and slowly walked towards the end room, where brightness was gradually being consumed by the dark, thinking, believing, that at the end of the line, someone was waiting to pick him up.


in time

it was th
at i found her kneeling before a pagoda, sunset flowers on her hand, with two lit candles and three burning incenses before the altar in front of her, praying desperately for - a sign maybe, or someone. alone in a midst of a throng of devotee mothers and visiting families, a budding flower she glistened lost in a pandemonium of prayers and offerings.

as if a breath of the ancient river drew her attention to where i was standing, observing, waiting, she glanced quietly from her shoulders, and i felt my eyes aflame with recognition and gently douse of an innocent longing at a face i did see more than once in my dreams, as we found ourselves drawn together astride.

the falling leaves drift by the window. the autumn leaves of red and gold... i see your lips, the summer kisses, the sunburned hands, i used to hold. gradually, she wrapped her arms around my waist and clasped her hands behind my back. her gentle face deftly pressed on my left shoulder, it was an embrace that somehow intimately meant... forever. i fretted to reciprocate but nonetheless found my right hand caressing her head to her hair... and my left arm - cupped gently towards her waist.

i felt her shun a tear from her face, subtly wipe her eyes on my shoulder. and i could not but allow myself to be engulfed by this moment - with her and whatever deep-set burden she was heaving, even if it took eternity to waft her loneliness away.
since you went away, the days grow long, and soon i'll hear ol' winter's song. but i miss you most of all my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall. as it took for her presence to cure mine.