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日常 ❤️

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The stillness of Sumang Walk

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https://www.instagram.com/ohghiblies/

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Point of View, Jules de Balincourt

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Mirissa

Rain was falling lightly around us as we manoeuvred the narrow streets of Mirissa in our Tuk Tuk. The landscape has evolved from the busy trail of cars along the highway to the quiet streets where the gates of individual houses front. Soon enough, our vehicle glided into a set of wooden gates with its black steel frame, open to the streets. 

We arrived at an empty pavilion with its kitchen equipment and sets of timber tables and chairs. The furniture was simple but well made. We continued further in search for other human species, and were greeted by two tall blond girls.

“Hi, my name is Marie*, and this is Ingrid. Welcome! Please leave your luggages here and do have a seat at the breakfast hut while we get your room ready.”

(*Till date, we are unable to recall the specific literal identity that this female human entity introduced herself in. We shall proceed to remember her as Marie in remembrance of the Marie biscuits that I am fond of.)

Marie brought us to the earlier pavilion and we plonked ourselves at the two-seater table and chilled with the flies circling around us. There was just something so attractive about us that the flies couldn’t help themselves. It must be my naturally good looks, or simply the fragrance I was exuding. Marie kindly made us tea and gave us some organically shaped pancakes accompanied by superb homemade orange marmalade jam. 

We were enjoying our somewhat serene tea break when we noticed a short thing approaching us on its short legs. The thing was wearing a dark blue shirt and red shorts, and was walking steadily, barefoot on the grass lawn towards us with a toy in each hand. The toy clasped in his right hand was shaped like a giant injection needle, in which he proceeded to stab into the scar on my left elbow with all his strength as a way of saying hi. It is fortunate for me that his full strength is abominably weak. Still, it left a sting and a temporary mark on me.

“This is Robin, he is Ingrid’s son,” Marie informed us with a friendly smile before hustling off to the main house, probably to get our room ready. We were now left alone with the thing called Robin. 

“How old are you, Robin?” Ben was doing up his friendly act to the thing. The thing held up 4 fingers. He was probably delighted at the attention he was getting and started transforming his lego toy, the one he held in his right hand. “Crocodile!” “Dinosaur!” The little brat was excited and imaginative. He was really cute and I gave his head a little pat. It was as fluffy as a dog’s. 

Robin noticed a green sprout peeking out from the gravels on the ground beside our pavilion and tapped out arms excitedly before pulling out the living thing and killing it with his bare hands. He placed its corpse on our table and went back to his lego. Ben decided that the most logical thing to do at this moment will be to touch the green sprout. Touch it he did. The thing started screaming his head off. Ben let go of the sprout as fast as he touched it. Oh my Buddha.

The little brat stopped his screaming and handed me his lego toy. “He only likes white chicks,” Ben declared, “This is why I hate kids.” 

The little brat was listening but ignored Ben. “Eat me with this crocodile!” I pretended to be biting him. It was all effortless and only involved me moving my arms slightly. It made him rather happy, but he became too excited after a few turns and fell on the floor and rolled his body once.

Ben did the unfathomable thing of saying “Oh no!!” and all hell broke loose.

“MUMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The brat exploded and went running off in search of Ingrid. He was embarrassed that he fell and now we are at risk of being in the bad books of our host.

That was our first experience in Mirissa. It was a beautiful (and a little rough) start and we couldn’t wait to explore the place and the beach(!)

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Lake Kawaguchi 

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A Friendship From The Past

We met in the autumn of 1990, in the United States.

The US was having its midterm elections and a group of about 30 of us were invited to tour the country for a month.

We were a mix of journalists, Members of Parliament, academics and political party activists.

We came from countries the US thought would benefit from witnessing democracy at work, among them Cyprus, Egypt, India, Ireland, Israel, the Maldives and Nigeria.

While not as exciting as a presidential election, there was still plenty of mudslinging between the Democrats and Republicans, as they fought for seats in Congress.

It was a heady four weeks as we visited six cities around the country. The travelling and excitement bonded us. We got along well, had a fantastic time and were sad when we had to say goodbye.

As happens in groups, some people got along better with each other and would hang out together more.

One of those I clicked with was D.

He and I came from very different worlds, but maybe because we were single and among the younger ones in the group, we could talk. We laughed at the same jokes and were comfortable in each other's company.

When the trip was over, we kept in touch through letters - yes, it's hard to imagine, but those were the days before e-mail.

Then, as in most long-distance friendships, ours died after a while.

We were busy with our own lives, we lived too far away from each other and we didn't have that much in common other than the American trip, which was becoming a pleasant but distant memory.

In 1994, though, we met up.

A Singapore minister visited his country and I was one of the journalists who covered the trip.

D picked me up late one night after I'd filed my stories and we went for drinks at a hotel.

We sat in a candle-lit courtyard but after the initial burst of catching up, the conversation dragged. There wasn't much to say to each other beyond recollecting our American adventure.

And so, I thought, that was that, then. Like so many other friendships in my life, it was good while it lasted but the journey must end sooner or later.

Two years ago, out of the blue, I got an e-mail from him to say he would be in Singapore for a working trip. Was I free to meet? Unfortunately, I had to travel at the time and replied that I couldn't.

Then last week, he visited Singapore again and, this time, we did get together for dinner.

I didn't meet him alone though.

H came along.

I'm not sure how other married couples would approach a situation like this, but I didn't feel I should be meeting a friend of the opposite sex alone for dinner.

In any case, I thought it'd be interesting for them to meet.

H took a bit of persuading but, in the end, he said he'd come along if I wanted him to.

I was worried things would be awkward, but the evening turned out fine.

I wouldn't say the two men got on like a house on fire, but the vibes were positive and they discovered a common interest in football.

As for me, I was happy to see D after 22 years.

It brought back memories of the trip and how I was young, crazy and carefree then.

He had got married soon after we met in 1994 and I was happy to learn that he and his family - he has two sons - are doing well. He showed us pictures of them.

It was interesting to observe how he had changed in those intervening years.

We both exclaimed how we were the same but, of course, we weren't, physically, mentally and probably spiritually too.

The meeting was bittersweet somehow.

There's nothing like meeting someone from your long-gone past to drive home how you are so much older now.

I could see it in his eyes - and he in mine - that we have both lived through so much. We have become different people and moved on with our lives.

Even if we wanted to go back to that easy friendship we once shared - and I am not sure we did - we knew it wasn't going to happen.

Yet there was a bond because of the friendship that once was, but now was lost.

I felt rather sad even though I knew I shouldn't because I was, after all, meeting an old friend.

Friendship is such a strange thing.

There are people you have known for decades but don't consider friends, yet others you meet just once and know you've found a kindred spirit.

What is it that makes us like another person? Friendship, after all, must be rooted in like.

Is it a certain look, a feeling he or she evokes in you, a smell even?

Why do we feel at ease in one person's company, but are petrified to be alone in another's?

Why do some people give you a warm, fuzzy feeling when you bump into them on the street, and why do you feel like fleeing the scene when you spot another person?

And when you do become friends with someone, why do some friendships last forever, others for a period of time, and then there are friendships that die a quick death?

Over the years, I've come to some conclusions about friendship:

• You can't force a friendship. It's either there or not and the desire to be friends has to be mutual.

• A friend - or a spouse - of a friend doesn't necessarily become your friend too.

I've always been intrigued by how there are people I like- and who like me - who have friends whom I would not want to be friends with, and, in fact, whom I positively loathe. How is that possible?

• Sometimes, you outgrow a friend. Sometimes, the friend outgrows you. When that happens, let it slide. People change, you change. You shouldn't feel guilty or take it personally when a friendship fizzles out.

• It's okay to shed old friends. Just because you've been friends since the age of five doesn't mean you are obliged to still be friends at 50, if you don't feel like it. Maintaining a friendship that has become stale and suffocating is a waste of time for both of you. Life is short. It's fine to move on.

• It's okay to make new friends. The best thing about new friendships is how they don't come with baggage. It's a chance to start anew, to present yourself the way you want to be seen now, not how an old friend pictures you.

• Marriage changes friendships. It especially complicates friendships you had with the opposite sex before you got married. You also have to navigate your spouse's friends, whom you might not want to be friendly with if you had a choice.

After our dinner with D, I sent him an e-mail to wish him well. Take care, I said, and keep in touch.

He replied to thank me for dinner and also said we should keep in touch.

I wonder if we will or if we were just saying it because that's what people say after they meet old friends.

But I really shouldn't think too much into this.

We had a friendship once and it made us happy then.

Even if we don't keep in touch, I'm grateful for that friendship. If that's as good as it gets, then it's good enough for me.

---

Written Sumiko Tan, published on The Straits Times. She writes so beautifully. Coincidently, I read it while listening to 你, 好不好 by 周兴哲. It was a perfect fit.

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXda57KuQ04)

Simply Nailogical is the funniest Youtube nail artist EVER. I don’t even watch for the nail art, but simply because she is hilarious. Her boyfriend is exactly like her lmao.

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An Architectural Portfolio, 2016

DONE

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Did this for thesis!

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how to quarrel and resolve differences in one minutes wtf

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绿悠悠

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wow

Psychological Embroidered Landscapes Explore Unspoken Thoughts by Michelle Kingdom

LA-based artist Michelle Kingdom paints the landscape of her whims, tainted by scenes and characters across genres such as mythology and pagan rituals. Her subjects are constantly engaged in an undefined activity. They are poised in mid-action; fused together from references across history, literature, myth and memory. To depict her obscure figures, she embroiders them on a stitched canvas.

Kingdom’s silent subjects portray unspoken words. Her thoughts focus on moments contextualized in relationships, domesticity and self-perception. Instead of taking a traditional approach in embroidery work, where vibrant colors are used, Kingdom uses  pastel and pale earthy tones to demonstrate the intellectual meaning of her work.

She continuously uses the female gender to express a psychological evaluation. They are often portrayed as lethargic figures, which are never really seen or spoken. They are devoid of color and emotion. Her female subjects are often accompanied by nature. They are given natural metaphors, which portray the acts of blooming, flying away freely, or being constricted.

Overall, each piece contains hidden meanings, which are left to be interpreted by the audience and their psyche.