July 10, 2014

I've noticed that
Many people who are lost in new places
Often wish to be.
but I am not one of those people.

He found me
In the marine park
Amongst corals and sand

He was wandering
On purpose,
No agenda or aim

but it was I,
the one who was searching,
that was feeling lost.
Sometimes we tell ourselves where we need to be
and miss out on the beauty of where we are.

Somewhere between beaches and the marine border, strangers became friends (:

The taste of freedom
Is salty, like the waters of
The East coast
I bathed in them
And choked on my own joy
Salt water
Burns, heals the ulcers.

The sound of freedom?
Waves splashing on the shores
Water bubbling from his mouth
Tanned man with curly hair, where are you from?
Here, in the waters, my accent is
Weird too.
Where am I from?

The smell of freedom
Is of sea breeze and sand
Or is it the smell of
Cheap airconditioned rooms?
Tarred roads, LRTs with no wifi?
My friends are chasing this scent
Always on the go

How does freedom look like?
I saw freedom
In the mirror this morning

Looking perfectly lost

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