sunday blues

haven't written for some time.

HI HELLO! owe u guys an explanation on that reason/passion quiz.
well, dun hit me is all I want to say to make sure of my own safety.
The perfect result a linguist would expect would be roughly the same categorization from the majority. Like most would agree 'women' belong to 'passion'.
And 'creation', what they expect, should belong to 'reason'. but surprisingly lots of people dump it under 'passion'. i did too and i dunno why exactly.
that's it. boring isn't it.

Flu bug flying around. I'm afraid i might be the unlucky stray target it hits upon. Feeling light headed, weak limbed and a split headache every ten minutes or so. I hate getting sick, not in winter!

It's a fine day. THat tempts you to write 'one fine day' as the starting line in your journal entry. I used to detest sunshine. I don't understand myself back then. Jade says i'm a vampire. The curtain at her window was often neatly wound into a huge knot and kept back behind the iron bars while mine was tightly drawn to block out all light. And so i happily enjoyed the darkness which i equated with a peace of my own mind.
And now i long for sunlight. One a day like this, like today, you can watch the sky changing colours from the window seat. Strange city it is. no pedestrian, no dog barks, few cars, sparse buildings, no high rising skyscrapers, and Ontario lake sparkling in the distance like a silver belt. IT looks magical at sunset. Golden clouds sinking into the horizon as if the sky descends into the pure lake just to take a bath. and that smoke that tirelessly drifts out of the chimney and disappears into the huge landscape, against the five o'clock brilliance. watching its last dance of life brings a mesmerizing illusion that travels back in time. it made me think of the steam age, wonk wonk how the first steam train glided out of the railway, mushrooms of clouds shooting into the new era old eyes never imagined before. Civilization.
It's waning. That warm wisp of cloud that comes too close to the setting sun. It's getting drunk. So it goes down, goes out, bows a graceful bow n gives stage to the night.

Here's a story.
Two people live under the safe roof. Their room is waterfront. Every day after a meal, they'd stand in front of the windows and marvel at the lake. A sleeping beauty at dawn, 10 year old boy in the afternoon, silent lover at night.
'let's go to the lake some day'
'yeah we will.'
'it's beautiful'
and so everyday after a meal, they'd stand in front of the window staring out at the mystic blue.
'let's go to the lake some day'
'yeah we will.'
'it's beautiful'

and so today they stood in front of the window. one fine day .
'let's go to the lake some day'
'yes we will'

is there an end to the story,
maybe