Like kids, playing pretend

Around midnight, Sunday, we were watching "In the Mood for Love", and we were in that last scene where Mr. Chow was in Cambodia, whispering to a hole in a monument of an edifice his lost secret love affair, and covered it with grass and mud.

I could tell a secret now, like Mr. Chow, of what a weekend that was. But I won't.

Let's just imagine that I was pretending I was on a beach, somewhere in a city, where the waves were silent, like air, and the shore was littered with dust. There could be a television out in the deep sea and we watched John Lloyd & Bea's "One More Chance" over and over again. We were floating in the deep, lying helplessly, and hugging monotonously. Like the tide, the calmness soon wraps up and the air changes the mood. Our glasses with cute little cocktail umbrellas have been emptied and we set our sights to shore. We tend to be vigorous, moving about. A storm floating above washes away the apprehensions, and we fight an urge.

We sailed all day. We could have sailed 28 times more around the earth and be contented, for we were in the eye of the storm. After which, I would have been dead, from all the rope tying, the mast-heaving, the floor mopping. Out on the bridge, I stick my tongue out to lick the wind. Another storm would pass and brace again for this one.


I was tired, and I slept in hibernation. The morning light awakened me and your nakedness comforted my struggle during the night. I woke with a smile, alive, as well as you. It was too bright and glimmer-y. Perhaps your skin shines when you are happy. Mine, radiates the colour of the earth.