After what-seems-forever, the break away from home to Phuket, was nothing short of amazing.
I'm sitting here in my recently furnished, whiteish (almost too bright), clinical space of a room, where planned words sometimes escape my fingers in front of the glaring "personal" computer. I need to close my eyes and rewalk the sand-covered paths I've walked on that little sunny island of Thailand. I remember the heat, sparkling hot stars of the sun dancing off my skin, I remember traipsing down the street in my tattered singlet and a pair of oversized slippers, with nothing to care and worry about, except for what to have for the next lunch.
And then, there was the beach with sand like icing sugar and giant waves that froth like salty cream. I rushed against them at times, rode with them in the other. I can hear the waves, just roaring behind me and my head spins into a dizz as I surrender to the great nature's digestion, with nothing to care and think about. Just be-ing, still and time hits and heals you in the form of waves.
I remember what I used to want to be.
Free.
“我不明白 也不需要明白
就让我这样就很好
做一个傻子多么好。”
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