Friday, April 9, 2010

Come fly with me

Is it possible to miss air? Not even food or people or things but pure simple air?

Singapore is scented with the dust of the construction sites or hazy with the fumes from exhausted cars (couldn't resist that one - sorry!) or - horrors!- the salt smell isn't the sea but the sweat of the person squished up next to me on the train.

I'm suffering from a case of city fatigue and scanning my friend's pictures from his recent trip down under didn't help. Oh that album was lovely, the littoral scenes, green purples of lavender stretching as far as the eye could see, faces pink with cold and good clean air.

But you must be thinking, air can't really be captured in a photo - or can it?

Maybe it can. You can see crisp cold wind ruffling hair, infer the clean scent of lavender scented fields, the salt tang of the ocean. Your body pricks up and yearns toward the clean rush of sweetness.

Or maybe you just know - like when you see strawberries and lavender - that the air will be filled with the scent of longing. That air, light, colour and memories are inseparable elements.

Come with me. Let's take a plane ride then rent a car and drive drive drive until to lavender farms and wide blue skies.

I know its been a good week. Watched a play, read a little, was productive at work, ate great burgers for lunch. Oh and there's the first birthday party of one special little girl who showed up sometime last year all red and pouty :)

No disasters happened. The world spun on, creaking a little at times but on the whole, moving along at a decent pace.

But air? You know, it's just kind of necessary.

So yes, people, I really am that kind of a silly nut.

I just miss air.

So come fly with me and we'll go find ourselves a really sweet spot under a tree.

And breathe clean fresh eucalyptus scented acerbically cool air.


"The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing - to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from - my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back."
- C.S. Lewis

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