Last night, I was woken up at two – because my wife tripped over the luggage in the dark, fell badly or so it sounded – and I could not get back to sleep. So I booted up my computer and tried out the new patch from Marvel Heroes. All heroes have received an overall tuning and I was concerned about mine. By five I fell asleep on the sofa. By nine, I got out of the sofa feeling massively lack of sleep. Cynthia got out of the bed before I did. Her wound seemed manageable. It is good to know.
The flight was one in the afternoon. Singapore Airlines. My sister and her family will take the same one tomorrow. I always like spending time in the airport, breathing in the countless possibilities whereby people come and people go. Each has his own destination and destiny, intertwined in a singularity called airport.
We shared choc au pain and a gingerbread man in a cafe, both split into halves. I on the choc au pain and my wife, gingerbread man. God bless its soul.
Inside the plane was freezing cold. Probably for the better. Not even the gems can thrive. I am not into in-flight entertainment, unlike my wife. And I continue with Murakami’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. I have started reading this book a long time back and have restarted from the beginning again because I have forgotten how it begins. It is a good book. Just that my life has so much distraction lately. The good news is that I manage to finish reading it today. I love all of Murakami’s books. This one is no exception.
Because of the ongoing protest in Hong Kong, the traffic around Central is still very much affected. We have landed at five-ish. By the time we checked into the hotel and have dinner nearby, it was nine in the evening. My mother met us in the airport. I feel blessed.
The hotel that Cynthia unknowingly picked is next to a Muslim cemetery. She had no idea. It is cheap, near to my parents’ home, and I was busy playing computer back when she was making the booking online.
I don’t mind the location really. It is at the very edge of my district that I have yet to explore. Across the street and down the stairs is a public swimming pool that my sister and I were used to frequent. Our mother was used to sit at the audience area and watched us swim, for hours. That was before she has took the dive – figuratively speaking – and learned to swim. I always have this impression that our mother has this immense love and patience for the two of us. Till today, I still feel blessed thinking of the good old days.
Three of us – my mother, my wife, and I – had clear braised beef noodle soup for dinner. The food is so delicious. Why don’t we have something like this in Singapore?