Being away from her is never easy. We’ve had a tumultuous 2016. Since moving to home country, Lucy and I have enjoyed a sense of stability we did not have before, that of being within a family. It is a small family, just my baby sister, her hubby, their two furry boys Bizcuit and Tiny, and our mother. Now, there’s Lucy and me.
I no longer need to panic and worry about who will care for Lucy when I need to make trips away, or when I am unwell and cannot attend to her personally. Continue reading →
I went there today. It was one of our favourite places, Lucy’s and mine. I sat at our regular spot. Smiling faces and hearty greetings from everyone. It was good to be back. The humans, the smells, the sounds, the colours and images, the textures, they are comforting in their familiarity. Yet, there was a void, a resonating desolation. There, in that space, that little nooky corner by my feet, Lucy was not. Instead, a walking cane, to help my unsteady hobbling, ungainly swelling of ankle and metatarsal joints. Bunny keeps on keeping on, while Lucy awaits patiently in her new faraway abode. Here, back in our former home, our old neighbourhood, the emptiness reverberates gentle memories of our adventures. Bunny and Lucy.
Grace notes occurring in the midst of forceful fury.
Overwhelmed inside churning, heaving and seething vortex of existential and corporeal torment – unrelenting in its pursuit of dignity’s destruction, unrepentant in its indecent mockery – the arhythmic pounding of crass insistence overtakes consciousness.
There, the little grace notes appear. Silent fluttering wings of delicate rectitude, without force, without rude encroachment.
Listen to the soft, gentle and sometimes whimsical intonations of clemency, and the sighs of gratitude amidst shimmering spasms of tender affliction. Continue reading →
It’s Christmas again, and a brand New Year peeps at us from just around the corner. Instead of jacaranda, our morning walks are now across pathways strewn with yellow flame.
Last Christmas was a season of horror. Lucy lost part of her beautiful tail in an act of sickening callousness. A travesty, a defilement of my Lucy’s purity, heralding cosmic wailings that nobody may ever be able to hear, but myself and a very few whose ears are tuned to the whispers of realms beyond human-centricity. ‘Twas a season of wading through fetid pools overflowing with flotsam and jetsam of social plastic, brittle fondnesses, meaningless verbage (verbal garbage), locked inside the iron-fisted grip of grandiose benevolence. Continue reading →
I have launched my handmade adornment line at last. LaLaLouBelle. Named after Lucy, my muse and inspiration, LaLaLouBelle marks a long awaited re-ignition of a smouldering ember, a little ‘yearning’ of the sensory kinetic realm to ‘hand craft’ reinterpretations of fascination. Since childhood, I’ve loved little things that held associative wonderment. I collected bus tickets, buttons, jewellery discarded by mum, coloured paper, odd shaped rocks and pebbles, driftwood, shells etc. Thirty years ago, I began to collect beads and semi-precious stones wherever I travelled. I amassed quite a sizeable collection of bits and bobs gathered from parts of Europe, the UK, China, Thailand, India, Indonesia, Malaysia and home in Singapore. Thanks to a very generous old friend, I have in my collection some precious pieces – vintage handcrafted glass beads from around Europe, Johnson & Matthey silver findings, wire, tubes and plates, semi-precious stones and rocks from the Natural History Museum in London – which formed the foundation for subsequent additions along the way. Continue reading →
Leftover fish and chips from Massimo’s Arthouse Kitchen for breakfast this morning. Our final day in Sydney. We said our goodbyes to beloved Paddington and our former neighbours yesterday. Very sad to learn that ‘Old Bill’ who lived across the road from us had passed away during our absence. He was always so gentle and kind, and Lucy loved visiting because Bill always had doggy treats for her. I remember the lovely Chopin Etudes he used to play on his little baby grand, it made me smile and yearn for musical days gone by. Walking down the street towards Wendy’s and Peter’s, we bumped into Judy and her sweet fluffy Sam. Fifi, the little rescued teacup poodle heard us and began to bark – Wendy came out from inside, and we were soon engulfed in animated conversation. Continue reading →
Anxiety is a demon, roaring fury echoing in mocking silence, dancing tentacles teasing and mutilating quivering raw flesh. Shortness of breath and throbbing heart escalating into blazing fury, gasping for breath under thick smoking dusty throws, pearly beads of toxic pain oozing from unseen frantic pores.
The Canine Angel is a mysterious entity. One does not need her the way air is exigency for life’s breath. In fact, many inconveniences present incorrigible upon such Angelic visitation. The Angel does not wait for opportune time and space, her Beingness occupies your entire ecology. She creates calm from chaos, yet stirring waves so gently disruptive the heavens chortle in cruel delight. Continue reading →
Are you offended by my expressions and paradigms of love? Have you ever stopped to wonder if I may be hurt by yours too? What are the different paradigms for connectivity and forming interpersonal bonds? How do we each express attachment and intimacy? Do we ever ask ourselves these question when we interact with friends? How about friends we have known for decades? Continue reading →
Remembering the local traditions from days of yore. That neighbourhood bakery churning out fresh butter cream cakes with garish, kitschy jam and cream embellishment. Saving pocket money for the little indulgences. Sharing with baby sis. Sticky creamy fingers. Arguing over who has the larger chunk. Then here comes the doggy, wanting a share.
Baby sis scoured the heartland shops to locate this bit of nostalgia just for me, on my birthday last week. Sweetness all round. Bizcuit stood in as the doggy, puffy tail wagging and eyeing the cake on dining table. But we are now old. And it didn’t taste the same as before. The cake was not moist enough, and the butter cream was boring. They are no longer 25 cents per piece, either. Oh, and she bought five of them, no need to argue about size or volume. Much has changed … yet, the delight remains.
Memories are made of these. ❤ Feeling mentally and physically exhausted, but emotionally blessed.