Thirty Three

sandy beach, los angeles

Goosebumps victim of yet another senseless corporate spending (this time an attempt to turn offices into a second Arctic) surrender themselves to the swelter of the metropolis. My feet carries me effortlessly into waves of heat while my body rejoices in an intimate lullaby with the cloudless sky. Sheens of sunrays brush against my shoulders and trickle happiness all over. Molecules of sunshine touch, and then decidedly, press against my lips.

July afternoons, I think I am in love with you.

Complementary

I have a collection of things.

Things that one would put on to, so to speak, complete a look.

A part of me longs for everything in life to have these things.

Some kind of finishing touch that makes the lacking
a little closer to perfection.

From within

I have been trying to make time for solitude. To tuck myself away from the world for a moment and enjoy the simple things. To renew an appreciation for the often-ignored, the often-neglected. It is a nice feeling, albeit scary at times, to feel so grounded and centered, to have such sensible thoughts. I think mental maturity is finally hitting me.

But, I don't think I am ready to think like an adult.

I want to keep believing in Santa.

My city, no less

manifesto, last fall

Beyond the towering skyline lies
a labyrinth of culture

Interwoven with ideas
with aspirations
I thank the mosaic of people
and their stories, hopes, and dreams,
for making Toronto,

Toronto.