Saturday, July 6 2013
Cold air seeps into my skin. Chicks in pens are twittering, hidden crickets screeching, birds trilling, my cats mewing. I’m home now, and the noises of life wafting from outside my window are music to my morning. Even the hubbub of passing motors rings pleasant in my ears; the whoosh, the hiss, the sputter, the rumble. Mixed together mechanical and organic, they form an euphonious melody that fill the air like orchestral music. Quite unlike the dreary soundtrack of my day-to-day working life: the rattle of the ceiling fan echoing in the concrete confines of the apartment I rent; the whine of the printing machine at the office, dully disgorging printouts; the whispers of gossips, and the loud phone conversations in smarmy English. And that is as far as my recount of my new surroundings goes.
I rather not think about life as a worker today. It’s Saturday.
After rubbing my face on the coat of my cats the night before, I’m slightly restored to being the idle me. It’s great seeing my parents again (though we’ve only been apart for a week – I love my family), watching the disorder at home, and catching the sundry smells of critter refuse around the house. Let me elaborate on that last bit. Our kittens haven’t been kitty trained, and the country chickens that aren’t going to be sold roam the compound freely, pooping wherever and whenever they want.
Like a Durian, not all can stand it. But that’s my bucolic home and I love it.
So, that’s all for this post. All my previous drafts had to be scrapped for what they are, petty concerns of work and interpersonal issues. I’ve decided there are bigger and beautiful things worth writing about, like movies, and fantastical fiction. Diversion or passion, they are things that delights my heart and I feel happier posting about them. How happy are those from developed nations to be producing fantastical fiction.