someday

today, it was raining very heavily, so sitting at the viewing mall inside the transit area of changi airport's terminal 2 was a much more enjoyable experience. this has always been my favourite way of spending the lunch hour. with a book, some food, a drink, and a chair. of course, it is a plus that the cushioned, inclined chairs of t2 transit area are really comfortable, and the ceiling is at least 4 storeys above me.

so there i was, looking out at the planes without having to squint like normal (the glass is not tinted like the public viewing mall at t1), and i had the urge to share it with someone again.

"hey, how is your day? i am really happy now, i am sitting on the rightmost seat at the back of the only 2 rows of chairs, 3 in each row, and i'm having subway, the ceiling is way above me, it is raining, and i am happy. this quiet and peace and silence is something i really cherish, like i work 7 hours in the shop to earn this hour of reverie.

have you ever felt like that? just enjoying the peace and quiet, and i almost wanted to take pictures of the moment, and be able to post pretty pictures like many of my friends, but it was easier to close my eyes and smile to breathe in the feel of it all. did i tell you about the yellow butterfly i saw flitting past outside last week? it was beautiful; i wish i was beautiful in a disarming way like that. yellow wings against a world of concrete, nonchalant, carefree, and altogether surreal and captivating.

i saw the cargo crew on the ground, all dressed in flourescent yellow waterproof suits, unloading the luggage into mini-trucks. i would like to be an air stewardess, but i hope to be able to work at least a day like they do, in the rain. waterproof things are never waterproof - not this long, anyway. walking in the rain can be romantic and lonely. do you think contradictions are poetic? i think so, i hope you do, too.

in that hour, the dimmed brightness of the sun and my novel formed a soft bubble around me, and i swished slowly from side to side to the rhythm of the raindrops outside like an ankle-length skirt on the grass. another day for our bustling airport, another part-time employee, another 1hour lunch break. another pair of mesmerised eyes, greedily soaking in the scent of this moment.

the thing i will always remember most are the pair of wipers on the windscreen of the silkair plane that came so close to me, turning into its dock. i smiled in the general direction of where the pilot would be sitting. i would like to think he had seen me, and had had smiled, too.

maybe, someday, i will be beautiful, and bloom for you like that yellow butterfly from the garden of concrete, and you will love me as an unforgettable dance - again; i think i dream of you in dreams"

letter from the sands of nowhere. wish you were here