Dec. 30th, 2015

riverofcurios: (paperbag)
i never realised how big things are, and how small my world used to be. katie lives in LA and studies in berkeley, and i stupidly asked, "so do you stay at home and commute to school everyday?" and she laughed and said that LA is 3 hours away from berkeley. to me california as a single state should be as big as singapore is, but i suppose conversely it doesn't occur to them that it takes an hour's drive from one end of singapore to the other. i can walk so much now, because my empty wallet forces myself to walk two or three metro/tube stops at each time, and i wonder how much that distance would be superimposed onto a map of home. everything is so big here, and the skies and plains are bigger and wider still (and unfathomably so) that it should make me feel so small. i must be some kind of delusional, because whatever on the horizon my eyes can see is attainable, but unfortunately i could stare at the white skies for so long and never discern the limits of the sky.

and there are seasons here too, and that i can sense so acutely but yet never grasp the fleetingness of it. both transitions to autumn and winter i felt in the dryness of my throat and blocked mucus at the back of my nose, so far from the constancy of the seasons of home. everything at home exists under the white-hot sun, and nothing expires. i went to london when i was 6, and i distinctly remember my mom feeding me so many cherries -- in august this year in london i realised we must've gone to london in the summer of 99 when it was cherry season, because i saw so many bright red cherries gleaming from the fruit carts this time. i regret not going to more jardins in paris when the trees and flowers were still in full bloom -- by the time i gathered enough sentimentality and time, the trees grew bare-boned with nary a leaf on the ground. i miss the colours and the life and the long days and winter is boring. i remember coming home after fall break, and the large tree outside my window flashed bright yellow. after a few days, half the tree had its leaves scattered on the grass and there was nothing to watch from the window anymore. if only i could experience spring in paris, and watch how that tree blooms. 

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