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My little brother leaves for Sweden tomorrow at 10.55pm. It's 1.19 am now and there is that strange tension in the air that keeps the 2nd floor where I sleep awake. You can never be prepared enough when you first leave home. He won't be back till the 6th of august. He has also declared that he won't stay in touch for the next eight months. I think he might soften after the third.

I briefly sat around watching him, my mum and WR look for a backpack that could accommodate all his essentials. I spotted a familiar sweater. Old, checkered maroon, navy and dark green, probably not even fully woollen. My mum bought that when I was eleven, it was probably for GY, we were going to New Zealand then and she went out to John little's to get a whole bunch of discount sweaters. It was the first family trip to anywhere that was cold and far away. One of the first sweaters like the rest in the bin- Ugly, and fond. I realised GQ was only six then.

And now he's really not little anymore. I tried being a big sister and passed him some token money. He threw it back at me. Upon insisting he take it, he showed me his bank account. Clearly, token money wasn't needed. Oh well. I never really was a big sister sort anyway. Just trying to do something pretty uncomfortable but sweet. Last night GW prepared a first aid kit- neat bandages, plasters, tape, individually zip-locked pills with instructions on dosage and prescriptive ailments clearly delineated. Now that, is a sterling example of older brother behaviour. (On a side note, GW really is the medical tooth-fairy. I just opened my door to find a chalk potion and a stash of omeprezole for the wilful acids in my tummy.)

It feels different, not being the one who leaves. I see more of the collective jumble of feelings hanging in the air, a thick unmentionable cloud. Unburdened by those overbearingly strong emotions that come with leaving, I too, much like WR, am yearning for a moment to take us back to when we were 19 and sleeping in some Finnish train station. That's it. I'm not gonna try to sleep anymore, so that I will. I hope GQ will solve the luggage crisis of where to put his saxaphone before the night is over. I hope my mum will get some sleep. And I'll try not to think too deeply about that sweater, which stirs up almost too much sentimentality for a working Monday night. Afterall, my engineer is going to need my basement levels all worked out in the morning. Rats.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

They say that geography changes everything. It's true. The mind mellows, grinds down to the stillness and the sublimity of an environment so completely tamed and dominated by nature. Perspectives are lost, gained, and castles rebuilt. The love of things and people is found. For a few precious days, the world is perfect. Then goodbye bali, goodbye bubble, hello real world.

God restores, things have shifted and the heart sees just a little more clearly. The process is slow, but no doubt radical at the root.

Current Mood:	refreshed
Current Music:	samba da bencao -bebel gilberto

in the ponds broken off from the sky my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.

~Rainer Maria Rilke Translated by Robert Bly

poetry, painting, water, memory and the graphic mark. i am unbelievably drawn to cy twombly.

Current Location:	singapore
Current Mood:	artistic
Current Music:	new york i love you- lcd soundsystem