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Monday, February 08, 2010

i just came home from walking jacky in the sparking night..
my, there's something horrendously wrong with arsenal. does anyone understand?

chinese new year is coming, and i have the urge to try baking bread.
cookies and cakes are really much less inspiring; there's something in baking bread; an inward journey in watching the fluff rise, being able to create something from lumps of dough that grow with the touch of your own hands.

a drought's been going on for half a year
to half the distance of a decade. the massive land had caked and cracked into a crispy crust;
everyday we dance for rain. it bleeds, sometimes.
there's a pool of clouds at half the height of a sky. no rain ever comes from it.
rumor says that the unicorns live there; we believe because only on the clouds we can see the golden lining of the sun; no, we believe because sometimes there is the faint echo of a thousand hooves...
we stretch our palms till they become black shadows in the light.
we can never catch the unicorns.
only time flies.

she's not here @

1:04 AM