Why is it that you have to pay a price for what ever you want to do? Why is it the price seems always dearer? Why is it that after even paying the price we cant but miss and more more miss the price when it sould have been ideal to value whatever we have infront, right there, looking at us? probably for a bit acknowledgement?
yeah ... Singapore accepted us with open arms, unfurled all its beauty and warmth to make us feel at home... yet Home becomes that ever enchanting entity that props up in the mind and ever taunts the make belief homely abode that I try to create in this far of shore.
In a silent afternoon, lazing on the small bed that symbolize my world, my space ... battling the harsh fever and the sever tiredness ... I long for the touch of those tenderness that spells Maa, the cloak of that assurance that smells baba and those nimble fingers trying to to confort me thats my dear dear cutie sis! Miss my home, and more so when I really feel alone, dodging the mammoth expectation while paying a price for expecting!
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