Macam Mana Nak Cari Jodoh di Malaysia?

900k ahli di sana sedang mengunggu anda di Baitul Jannah. Mungkin.. jodoh awak ada sana.

Daftar Sekarang!

Home

 

"I even gave up for a while, stopping by the window of the room to look out at the lights and deep, illuminated streets. Thats a form of dying, that losing contact with the city like that"

Philip K. Dick " We can Build You"

Bit late in the day for any real coherent thought, it being nearly dusk, and me feeling like my brain is slowly pooling out my ears. It's one of those days, where you don't think enough, or you think too much, or the mixture of nicotine and really bad coffee is making itself heard through my bowels, straight to my lizard brain. A thousand thoughts and none running through my head.

The smell of rain through my window distracts me for a bit, and I feel a bit disconnected, a bit unreal. I feel like plastic, maybe because its been nearly a week since I've walked down a street in my City.

Because walking through my City grounds me, makes me feel at home. I can breath there, with its exhaust fumes and its citizens of dubious character. The smell of rotting garbage mixed with the apple I eat (it costs 70sen, and it's the cheapest breakfast I can find at 7 in the bloody morning) while walking down Petaling Street wakes me up. Coffee in hand while walking past Sogo, staring at that cute girl in that too tight dress, swerving a bit to avoid the crowds during lunch hour. Again, walking down the crowded streets of Bangsar, staring (a bit jealously, 'tho I know its petty) at couples walking in and out of clubs, as I look for a place to eat my dinner and watch people go by. Late nights at a Shah Alam mamak stall, nursing a teh tarik while watching everything wind down and fall silent, 'tho never completely, not in this City.

This was where I was born and weaned, and though I left it for parts unknown, it all comes back to me. This City is in my blood, its smell on my clothes, its garish colors under my eyes when I go to sleep, its sounds my heartbeat, and I love it and hate it in equal measure.

And so, this is where it all began, and I hope to God this is where it's going to end.

Read the conversation

Related Stories

All Thriller stories

Other stories

Conversations

Conversation

Want to join the conversation? Use your Google Account

  • No comments yet.

Other stories by rhymeoverreason

Read all stories by rhymeoverreason
No stories.