all begins with L

A tough fight between these three

One - a childhood sweetheart
Two - falling head over heals for
Three - don’t know you but I’m

london, istanbul or toronto?

1. I’m off bread. I love it. But it’s harmful to arteries, cheeks and thighs.

2. This protein hunt lead me to a sufi-like of a being who knows of a place with chicken wings, apparently divine chicken wings. My cells are revived.

3. I cannot not be in Greece on the 29 of Feb for the sheer fact that there is only one 29 of Feb in every four years, and only those who share the Solitaire Mystery would understand why there is no other place I should be in other than Greece on this coming Friday (specifically in Athens but I’ll make do).

4. Sings - Friday I’m in love.. (now that would be epic) .

If I could rank the spectrum of cognitive dissonance running, I’m grappling with the nearest of reality to the furthest of my past (or what should be my past), excuse me while I attempt to negate the intangible that has occupied too much of a space that is too small.

Sometimes I wish I’m so far from you that the satellite would die. Just sometimes.

On the other extreme end, I met a nazi and I think we could be the best of friends. One who speaks of chocolate and wine along side the liberty of the mind.

If rainbow comes after rain, I’ve been waiting in vain for some sunshine.

as if nothing else can go wrong and everything that could possibly be.

Met the cutest-most hilarious-sweetest gay boy over the weekend and he’s leaving for Bulgaria tomorrow for his med sch. I’m shattered. I am.

I’ll see u in Varna, I will.

technically i shouldn’t give a flying fuck anymore. and i don’t.

…an art lecturer in some exotic university, with a small private gallery down town- that doesn’t sound bad at all.

and the occasional flings on installation pieces.

There is so much soul, and passion and art all around that I’m beginning to heal. And I could genuinely feel it. This is a city where music and dessert are of equal regards, and one cannot be presented without another. This is a city where no song is sang without a story of love, and I mean none, zilch. And where every beat calls for the tapping of the feet, and the sway of the hip, even the deaf could feel the rhythm just by looking.

I could live here. I could.

the r e is so muc h i wanttosaybuttheroommateissleeping.damnthesenoisykeys on board. istilldon’thavemyownroom at theageof23.

i feel like a doofus now. it just hit me this morning!

i is doofus.

i’m so not in mood to write a report now. but to graduate = to write reports. to write report to graduate = to write report now.

I dream in colors

The white of snow, the blue of deep sea, the sephia of dessert, the greenest of trees

The black reserved when I am asleep

I put on my favorite white pants and it was tight. I don’t even remember it being fitting. So here’s the story…

The weather took an unexpected 180 deg turn and it is a blizzard up here. The first morning it snowed, I received a couple of messages from ecstatic Singaporeans (me included) saying “Look out the window!”

The next day though, it was back to bright sunny days. So Ali and I decided to drive around the city and feast away!

Kumpir - oven baked potato filled with melted cheese and twenty different kinds of salads and sauces to short list from.

…and I had my first crossed over to the Anatolian (i.e. the Asian minor) side of Istanbul!

Over the next few days, I decided to get a mental map of what the city is like and there is no better way to explore it than by foot. Some of the best discoveries include devouring fish sandwich served fresh with bones in it. Those fish were grilled on board a tongkang equivalent of a boat by the river with waves hitting hard but the these men in uniform know how to keep their balance and make sure the crowd is well served.

It’s 3 lira!

The snow got serious over the next few days, thus mobility is limited from campus dorm to campus canteen. I didn’t manage to go for the big couchsurf party but did manage to spend prepre valentine with a small cosy bunch of global nomads. All in all I’m a happy camper still!

I feel stupid. I’ll write songs.

A brief chat has rekindled my quest for london. trafalgar, notting hill.. it’s all coming back to me now.

I miss that song, if you have it, please let me know.

The only compensating factor to this frost biting season is the cool clothes - the boots, the swanky hats, the trench coats. To which a friend disagreed saying he prefers skirts and sandals.

I say, a girl well wrapped up is a girl worth unwrapping..

Sunday was spent with as little lira as I possibly could - homemade turkey sandwich, nachos, yogurt-onion flavored chips and a heart warming/wrenching musical ‘Once’.

One of those movies that makes you feel like loving someone again.
Honestly at times, I have no idea what to make out of your new found joy.
I’m happy for you, mostly.

As this love transcends from one continent to another..

Yesterday I walked out alone, took the bus alone, took another bus alone, took the train alone and made my way to where I am suppose to be, in an unfamiliar territory.

The sudden rush of independence, the ability to walk and arrive, and realize that in this life there is no one else but you, to make everything happen the way you want it to be - a once familiar territory.

This is not growing up, this life as it should be. I did it once, I’ll do it again.

Things took a little upturn towards the end of the week. The weather remains unforgiving but I managed to work my way around the froze bites. So I met my first host from couchsurfing.com! - Ali Alp. Thank God for not sending me a sleaze ball, Ali is every bit a gentleman. He is the kind of person whom I can have comfortable silence with while I savour every inch of a view of this new city of mine.

So after long walks of touristy visits to the blue mosque, the grand bazaar and the likes of it, we settled for tea at one of the local pastissier. After all the readings about a particular quirky signature turkish dessert, I decided to go for it.

Kazandibi - is made of chicken breast! mold into a thick gooey mixture of flour, milk and vanilla essence. It is a heavy slice, a two course meal mashed into one and it is no less a palatial discovery.

It’ll get better…