About Rose: I grew up in Singapore, lived in Melbourne but currently call London home. I love gastronomic adventures, especially while travelling. I stated writing at 17 to remember how it all began.
Archives:
06 May 2004
8.26; thursday
it's amazing how acute your senses are when you are feeling rested and at calm with yourself. i remember feeling like this before in the past but the constant reminder of a list of things to do would leave me unsettled, and to say the least worried. i suppose i have learnt to let go, in more ways than one. to live for the very moment, to appreciate it for what it quintessentially is. i still worry no doubt, but i guess i rationalise more. i love the moment when i wake up and find that i have nothing to rush for- no appointments, no expectations. the moment where i know i can sink back into slumber for a fitful rest with no worries, not a care in the world. and in that moment, i'll listen to a song and stare at the ceiling. and maybe even fall back to sleep, waking intermittently with each scream and falling asleep again to the lilting voices of chet baker and al green. i couldn't reiterate more how much music means to me. for with every thought, there always seems to be a tune or a stanza or two to echo my sentiments. and more often than not, the song says much more than i could expound on in any entry or writing. they seem to encapsulate my very thought. and in that moment where i lie inebriated yet aware, listening to music in bed... i relish the perfection of the moment.
"The stairways up to la butte
Could make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulin
Shelter you and I..."
-complainte de la butte, rufus wainwright