Short, short stories about short, very short moments
I believe in everything, but everything believes in anything
The power in the written word, for me, is that, with some interest and will, I can enter and exit its worlds and characters. But do I know if the volition is conscious or not, and do I realise if the will is mustered or merely requires activation?
I’ve visited and outstayed in some stories, and while the stories were vast, I chose to set up post in single scenes and dialogues.
Says one to another, let’s take another path; we both need something new; that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard; come this way; everyone’s waiting; it’s not your fault.
I've been away
And the batteries have run themselves dry. The stores on this side of the neighbourhood have changed; a couple of vacant storefronts, many handwritten SALE signs. Here are your memories, of sucking hard at a sng-bao on an impossibly warm day, of choosing an eraser from a brand new box, of kind aunties and uncles who are now mostly dead. These losses are really nothing to you personally, but they hit like losses all the same.
In Japan, in train stations
If you lose a bottle
It would be wrapped in paper
And handled with care
It would be the lost & luckily found.
You may find
If you’re a half eaten meal
A kind man may empty you
And sponge you clean.
You may find
If you end up lost
And stay for a while lost,
You may choose to stay.
Are you still interested?
Thanks for your interest. Sorry I took a while to respond, I had classes all day this week. By the way, I got this brand new. BNWT. I ordered something else, but this came instead. The price is very reasonable, cheaper than what you can get on Shopee. I can meet you at Bugis MRT station, near the gantry. If you pay me via PayNow now, then I can make it 50 cents cheaper. Let me know asap k. I go for class now.
I know the guy
Who sits on the outer seat on the bus, who uses his phone in landscape. His game always reverts to the same screen, a field of green with splotches of dull, ugly colours.
I know the other sort who uses his phone in portrait, his thumb landing on the screen in rhythm with his attention. Next story, next XMM, next meme, next bro, next.