I just feel like sitting at the breakwater near the esplanade and just listen to the compressions and rarefactions of the waves. (Ha lets get scientific here shall we.) I want to watch the day turn into night. Watch the sun disappear as the earth spins about its axis, see light being devoured by dark. Hot and cold velvety darkness like black coffee. Lost in my own little world, confined to an area of 1m radius around me. That's all I need now. Silence, solace, solitude, serenity. You know the feeling of standing on the platform of a train station, watching the train whoosh over the tracks till it becomes a speck in the distance, chug-chug-chugging straight into oblivion. (And I don't mean the cold, unfeeling MRT trains but those oldish steam railway things.) The warm sooty smell still lingers even as the huge serpentine monster has disappeared. Then you find yourself - terrible as it may sound - alone.

Even if you're among people in the crowd, even if you're sandwiched next to someone that you can smell her perfume, you're alone. Concatenated bodies of eyes, limbs, hair. Despite that fragile connection you have with the people around you, you're on your own. Even though you know someone well enough how can you be sure that it's not all chimerical. Mind you, loneliness is bloody different from solitude. The latter is like, pseudo nirvana but the former represents nothing but anguish. I don't really know what solitude is like but it sure sounds hella good to me. Unfortunately, it really confounds me how one can be close to someone but yet feel so abstrusely alone.

I don't really know where I'm going with this discussion. Wait - it's not even a discussion, it's more like a monologue, but I don't really care. Putting everything in to circumlocution somehow is cathartic and somewhat therapeutic. I suppose everything resembles an agglomeration of stuff totally disparate but.. that's just me. Goodbye.