Getting out of the labyrinth

I see a police car on the streets where my house resides. 

I do not know what for and I do not care to think why it stands there.

I have set course on a familiar path and trod on the road making sure to not jaywalk because I do not want to get arrested.

The sound of music does now drown out the bustle of the cars.

Cars run up and down the road from multitudes of directions as I walk on the side path.

I have come out from my den because I want to crawl out from the labyrinth where creativity is devoid. 

So, I walk on paths that are sure to inspire me.

I see buildings, they are not a new sight, but they do itch my fingers to write more 

These buildings are of different shapes and of big heights 

The architecture is splendid. 

Cars graze by me which results to a gush of wind whiff past me.

I write the same old same old!!

I want to write something new but what?

I want to venture out to write new experiences.

I want to be in different relationships to write about them. 

I want to create experiences so that I have possession of new feelings to write about them.

Something holds me back and I want to cut loose from it.

Cutting loose from it would result in risking one of the most important bonds to me. 

However, the virus does not stop the world from stepping out into the streets. 

So why should it stop me? 

Probably if I pay attention to the streets that I am walking on, I might come up with something to write. 

This mindlessness of mine as I walk on the narrow side path can prove dangerous to me. 

Rather than taking a turn to head back home, I take the long path full of twist and curves to head back home.

Maybe with each twist, a new thought might emerge and I can write something from it.

I barely look up from my phone to notice what is going around me.

As I look above my phone, I duck under the branches of the tree and then watch a woman brace the open traffic by walking straight with her red and white striped umbrella.

One should carry an umbrella at all times in Singapore because you never know when it might rain here.

Looking down at my phone means looking down at the ground a lot and I notice different things.

I notice the lush and warm green grass on both the sides as I walk.

I watch little flowers of different colours and species sprout from within the earth. They hide amongst the grass or put on a show by letting loose in the wind. 

I see butterflies and small birds play in the grass while the cars on the road are the devil.

When I suddenly look up from my phone, I am shocked to see I have passed through so much.

It is funny and amusing to see how much of the world is missed when you write on your phone.

Time knows no limits as you walk and write. 

I am at a traffic signal and I wait. 

Now I am forced to look from my screen because I need to know when I can walk across the rampway as the cars and bikes are my audience.

The road is my rampway and my choice of attire are my PJ’s and my sweat glistened face.

As I look around the road, I notice other people around me.

I am comforted that there are people around, but this also increases my fear factor because of the virus that seems to be passing around.

I see droplets of water on leaves and it is beautiful to look at because they seem like expensive diamonds that are so rare that no amount of money could ever buy them.

I hear birds chirping at me? 

Probably they are telling me to stop looking at my phone and to take notice of the world till it is alive and pretty to look at.

I avoided a collision with a food delivery bike just in the nick of time 

It is interesting to see how much I have been able to write in such a span of time 

Writing down every thought that comes in my mind of the things I see around me was a hard mental and physical process

Bicycles seem to be a fan of this pathway as this is the second time, I was about to face a second almost collision. 

Now as I climb the stairs, I must pay uttermost focus and attention because I do not want to fall.

I am in no danger of walking down this path because bikers are not allowed.

I appreciate watching things from a high point of view on the bridge.

As I climb down the stairs on the other side of the road, I hear the voices of many children.

It was a school. I did not know schools were open now 

A weird nostalgia came over me which made me remember my school days and I missed them.

As I am on my way to go back home, I look up from screen and for a split second, I pass by the woman with the red and white stripped umbrella. She remined me of Waldo.

I spotted her amongst the crowd.

What an interesting fate. 

There are too many things going around in my mind as I walk, and it is hard to jot down all of them because they come by and go so fast.

I leave one thought to jot down another. This is an ongoing process until I reach my home. 

The smell of flowers is so strong and intoxicating that they help me pass through the nasty smell of the sewage systems.

The scene of flowers over here are so strong that they force me to quit writing about things I was currently writing and force me to start writing about their power and beauty.

I now walk along the streets of a neighbourhood and the smell of the trash is so overwhelming that even my memory of the flowers cannot do anything for my poor nose. 

I wonder where this drive to walk amongst unfamiliar places came to be. 

This need to go out and discover new streets for me to come back and walk along on another day. 

I do not care for the dangers that lurk around these streets that I discover and later venture on.

I come again to them because I am reminded of the pleasure I had when I walked on these streets alone once upon a time. 

I come here for the process of repetition. There are certain moments in life I know that cannot be repeated but walking on these streets, I set on the process of repetition. 

The path, the sights, they are all there. 

I come to them when I seek for solitude and inspiration. I come when I seek to be alone.

I chose to stop writing now because I want to soak in the streets I am walking on before I head back home.

I watch a single leaf fall from the skies

How sad it must feel to fall from its family 

I broke my vow to stop writing because this leaf needed a tribute to ending its life according to the circle of life.

When I listen to songs, I wonder what aspect of the song I listen to. 

I never pay much attention to the words sung. 

I hear parts of it but what I pay most attention is to how it sounds and what it makes me feel. 

As I return back to my home, I see the police car on the same spot where I last saw it on the beginning my walk.

Should I be worried? 

I hear a loud bang behind me.

I see a big truck just drive along and I see dozens of leaves shed of from its tree.

Another family bit the dust.

I chose to walk today because it was cloudy, and it had just finished raining. 

I walk outside when the world is upset, pairing off curiosity with sadness. 

We sure do make a great pair.

One thought on “Getting out of the labyrinth

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