The system called
- Filed under: Travel
- Date: Mar 29,2005
Some home you can’t call home. Aceh hit by earthquake around 8 richer scale. Anitta drove us home from Dinner. My head stop spinning. Spring is coming and I think it’s already here, in next several days crocuses will be on their full swing, blooming in different colours covering the ground. What’s happening for the past days? Slice of cake has been thrown in the bin the next day garbage truck came to pick.
What?! I miss The Island Philippines. I am beginning to dislike eating potatoes and Pastas! I was born for bamboo shoots and Pineapple vinegar. I was born for sleeveless shirts and thong not with the winter clothes and oven-like room. I miss sleeping with the windows open, feeling the sea breeze and midnight wind hitting the palm tress nearby where you can hear the hissing. I miss being bitten by small crab and I miss the heat of the sun. I almost have no memory of how the mountain smell like and how dark the moonlight shadow. I am losing the memory of how the coast line looks like during low tide…
I miss to feel the romance between nature and mankind, the colour of the atmosphere when the sun about to sleep. I miss the feeling of excitement while waiting the rainbow to show after the rain. I miss the kind of longing. I miss the wise men for their kind of wisdom they have. I miss the dance of the rain and waterfalls. The sound of the coconuts when they fall and specially the silence of the night. I even miss the bitterness of sorrow and the loveliness of just being alone.
I long to go back home where my world belongs to its own system and where my system can only work in its own world.
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