Robbie, the Beach and the Man whose technicoloured trunks could not be moved.

I dont know how long I walked today.
As I stood upon the beach, the wind bellowing against my skin caused the smell of salt water to saturate my pores.
I looked up into the ominous sky and it hit me that I was staring right into Time itself. The dark and light clouds alike shifted hurriedly across the powder blue sky as though in a race, no time to stop, no time to stop. Over my head and off to an uncertain destination.
It was like one of those perspective photographs where everything except your still, still body was in a constant positive velocity, speeding along an unstoppable current into Eternity.

I should probably note that my mother cautioned me against going to the beach as she briefly left for work, for fear of the looming dark clouds in the sky signalling a possible storm.

Of course, I still walked on anyway. People don't stop living today just because of some dark cotton candy in the sky. They don't. They still carry on doing their thing. Or maybe that's just exclusive to stubborn old me.

I made friends with this guy who owns a retired racehorse and I feel so haappy to be able to pet it and rub its forehead as much as i want everyday :) I rode him too.

I wasn't all too enthusiastic about spending a week out here. but ah.

I supposed I needed it.
I mean, look, I got my inspiration back, I'm writing for now.

And who would've thought that a someone I don't know whacked me into my senses again.

There's this lady about fourty who lives in the same building right now. Every morning, she gets up early, walks all the way down to the swimming pool and swims for an hour or so and then gets back by herself.

And she's only got one leg.

Every morning I wake up early, have breakfast, take long walks at the beach, play with a horse and laugh at strange old white men with their reddened faces and tight multicoloured swimming trunks. lol. (still so killing myself for not bringing the camera. ARGH)

Later on I walk some more until I get tired and return, maybe grab a chocolate bar from the shops. And sleep, sleep, sleep.

and I finally put it on paper...

.

...and realised it doesn't matter, my friend. There's nothing to feel. Leave because you can.

What's love got to do with it.

Don't let anyone tell you what love is.

My parents slave day and night, support me when I mess up, take my side even if sometimes it's my fault, let go in terms of social expression and freedom not because they don't care or are crazily liberal people, but rather because it's for my own good.

After working all day, they still find time to deal with my erratic moods and rubbish of that sort.

And, even if i go so far as to disappoint them in any way, my faith is that they continue to love and care on the grounds of blood is thicker than water.

And, it's not just this year, or last year, or for a short period, or during those times when they like my attitude but

almost two decades. Inclusive of those times where I was acting extremely unreasonable.

They changed my diapers back in those days where disposable ones weren't nearly as ubiquitous as compared to today, washed my puke off the... THEIR bedsheets at 4 a.m., tolerate, forgive, tolerate and tolerate.

Now THAT

is love.

so if you just for a moment think you're in love just because you feel something.

Hit yourself with a pan will you.

words don't tell me shit.