quiet days

winter is receding, and strangely, the onset of spring has brought with it days of rain, warm and little humid drops sprinkled from above. during my last six, seven, months in sydney, i've entered into a few routines such that i felt like i've been here for much longer. yet when i returned to singapore and confronting all that are familiar, i could just as well have never left. i'm always intrigued by how our minds can render time and reality so pliable. i remember when i was a child, maybe five or six, i would wake up in the mornings with the sunlight lancing through the window and familial voices wafting from outside in, a picture of domestic contentment as vivid as a five-year old can envisage, i would imagine how this awakening into consciousness, into reality was all a dream, and that to slide into slumber and into unconsciousness was in fact a return to the real reality, one that i in this awakened-but-unconscious state would have utterly no inkling. those fantasies i would lob around my mind for a bit, before i would finally get up for breakfast. what if my childhood hypothesis were true? 

when i returned from melbourne i was very sure i wanted to move over next year. but somehow sydney started to grow on me, the sun, the uni, the routine, the friends that i'd made. and so for the last month i had been mulling over the pros and cons of each, and was actually gradually coming to deciding to remain in sydney, until today, somehow i was convinced that i should move to melbourne. sydney hasnt been able to give me a peace of mind, and as a consequence i havent really been reading and writing a lot. i was in a bookshop this morning and chanced upon a copy of henry miller's 'quiet days in clichy', a semi-autobiographical account of bohemian paris and his days there as a struggling and impoverished writer, and then i rather wished i had written such a book. 

tomorrow is monday, but mondays mean nothing to me, not when my monday blues mean lying in on the green grass in front of the library lawn and staring up into the big wide blue.