the narrator

I am only a little melancholic, a little bit sick of the world, but isn’t everyone like this?

If you feel that I am unfamiliar in a crowd, do not be surprised, that is not the real me

I am still the person you know from before.

by Jimmy Liao

the story

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the creator

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brushes: x
lyrics: big city life by mattafix
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Friday, February 03, 2006

Really, I never thought that applying for a student visa would be so time and energy consuming. Rushing to and around Chinatown hunting for lawyers, translators, travel agents...jeesh, you'd think that with international students being a profitable 'industry' and all (contributing some billions to the economy), people would at least make life a bit simpler for us poor souls...Sigh.

SNAPSHOTS
Recently bought a Sony CyberShot P200 7.1 Megapix camera. Don't know why I need that much pixies, but hey, at only $560, it's a steal. Love my new sexy baby! Wish I had it with me yesterday though, because I could've captured the following:

*The Old Man And The Billboard*
I was on my way back from the masseur's. It was a particularly blistering day, and the heat was downright uncomfortable. The bustop had naught a living soul around - even the scurrying ants took the day off to avoid being fried.

Grumbling to myself about the "outrrrrrrageous weather", my attention was caught by a rags-and-bones bundle of a man. Brown, dried, wizened, and quite obviously worn-out, I immediately placed him on the "keep as far away as possible" list. Thinking him about to come begging for money, I deliberately put some distance between us - subtly, of course. Without appearing to notice me, however, he began rummaging through a rubbish bin, perhaps looking for a scrunched-up can to sell. Of course, there was nothing. I chuckled a little.

Glad that he finally decided to remove himself from my presence, I followed him with my gaze as he shuffled away. One...two... three - It was no more than three heavy steps before he came to an abrupt halt. In front of a big rectangular billboard. Those advertising gimmicks frequently seen erected around bustops. On it was plastered a poster featuring two obscenely blown-up loafs of bread. To me, it was an image meriting a ten out of ten on the 'eyeball-rolling scale'. But apparently, the old man thought it the very picture of heaven. He stared and stared and he stared, occasionally nodding and mumbling -

It was just so, at that suspended moment on a tropical afternoon, that I sat at the bustop watching...

The image imprinted on my mind as the tiresomely slow bus finally rolled into the bustop was of the dry old man patting his stomach as if satisfied, smiling at last. He looked for the world like he'd just had a meal fit for a king.


*The Hurried and the Tortoise*
Same day, same bustop, same bus.

I boarded with a heavy heart, my mind clinging to the brief encounter a minute ago. Suddenly, two white and blue mini-whirlwinds (or so I thought) swept past me and into the bus. It took a while to register that they were actually two little boys, about 6 or 7 years of age but looking younger, immaculately attired in cleanly-pressed uniforms. Kids...I smiled.

They seated themselves next to me, on the other side of the aisle. A couple of furtive glances later, I was able to determine that they were brothers (features too alike), and that the younger one looked absolutely befuddled at finding himself on a bus. He grimaced, he squirmed, he shuffled, and at last he gave up and sighed a very melancholy little sigh. His brother, on the other hand, looked absolutely disgusted at this display of 'juvenile' behaviour - although he himself could not be that much older.

I laughed quitely at this cute duo, and particularly at the expression of exquisitely suppressed pain on the younger brother's face. Very brave, I commended silently.

Too soon their stop came. The older sibling was all business, ringing the bell to signal the bus to stop, very professionally donning his backpack, and he was just about to get off the seat when he noticed that his way was blocked - his brother had fallen asleep. Utterly fed up, he directed a hard jab into an unsuspecting arm, and the poor kid, jolted out of his dreams, frantically scrambled to the exit.

As the bus pulled slowly away from the stop, I glanced behind, and what I saw was this: The elder brother leading the way confidently, looking left then right then left again as he navigated across the road, his small frame hardly able to sustain the big long strides he was taking - a man of the world. And behind him? A pint-sized figure, hardly visible under an enormous power-rangers backpack, bobbed up and down in a desperate effort to keep up - a little tortoise trying very hard not to be left behind...

Gosh...Where was that camera?

..signing off..

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