120 colours...

I have been trying to convince myself...
that I don't need to buy 120 colours for colour pencils.
72 should be more than enough.
Yet I cannot resist the temptation to own as many colours as I just can see to many shades of colours out there...
The world is too colourful that even 120 of them is too little to express.

Maybe it is my vanity. Like woman never have enough shoes...
Artist never have enough colours.

I write therefore I am

I love to write.
But I haven't been writing.

And this in NOT RIGHT.

And so, I am writing now.

Anything and whatever.

I remember vividly that I am always speechless
when people ask me what makes me think
people will buy my book if i publish one.
Not that I do not have confident with my writing ability.
But I am equally aware that many else can write as good
and even way better than me in fact.
Even the worst writing is worth reading if you can appreciation
the intention of sharing a thought.
I am not sure if people will spent money to buy a book i wrote,
but I am glad to share what I write with people who is willing to read it.


For me.
I just want to share.

Even the slightest emotion trigger by the rain.
The occasional sadness.
The lovely moon.
The baby sleeping.
The yawning dog.
The dripping tower.
The soya sauce stain on someone's sleeve.


Each has a story.

Some may be boring yet can be written charmingly given the mood.
Some are funny yet you didn't laugh.
Some are happy, so happy...I run out of words...
Some are angry but you just cannot sense my anger when u read it..
Some are sad...so sad, yet you just think it is silly of me.

While I absorb the world's happening around me like a sponge, I squeese out my thoughts with art, with colours, with shapes, and mostly with words...


I am.
I write.