Cancer
It all began with a nod of the head. Soon, the twitching and jerking of the fingers started. They seemed to be rather happy, jumping and hopping around as though they were dancing to the melody of life. Before you knew it, the fidgeting had spread from the fingers to the wrists, twisting and turning, almost having lives of their own. They flexed and rotated, trying to escape from the body, their master who enslaved them for years. From left to right and back to the left, no matter which direction they went, they remained. But it did not stop there. The cancerous cells invaded the white, skinny arms. The stick-like arms started waving in the air like flag poles in the wind. The Parkinson diseased arms would not stop, convulsing mightily, slamming the fingers like little hammers on the countless blacks and whites. Not before long, the whole body was trembling and started contract and extend at the same time. It was a scary sight yet so befitting of this beautiful night. Finally, it stopped. The tired and fatigued arms hanged loosely on his exposed shoulders. Applause rang in the air and vibrations shook the woody hall. His name is Maksim.
Won’t you come home
Awaken by the loud banging noise outside his window, Harry swore that he would kill whoever causing that irritating sound. Forcing open his sticky eyes, he struggled to shake off his fatigue and get out of his slumber. As he slowly regained vision, he looked out his little window and saw that the sky was pitch black and the gusty window was slapping on his jaded and unshaven face. Suddenly, it came to his realization that the noise was the thunder that pierced through the normally peaceful sky that his petite window faced.
“What the fuck! Even nature wouldn’t let me have a peace of mind?” his voice thundered and echoed in his empty room. “How am I going to kill the thunder?” His serious look suggested that he was really going to kill the one making the noise. Fortunately, it was not someone. If not, it would had been another day of his blood shed life. He turned to his side, reached out and switched on the only thing in his room – an antique lamp dated back to the 16th century.
From the reflection of the lamp, he could see him. His rugged face blended well into the surrounding of his woody room. His chiseled face and well defined cheeks would make him stand out in the crowd. However, the hair on his face was able to strategically cover his well defined features. 25 years of his life, he had never wanted to be different from the rest. But he knew that deep down, there was something wrong with him. Something different. Some extraordinary.
Ousting the last bit of sleepiness out of his body, Harry stood up and walked downstairs to the Mexican cafe below his place. He had to wash up and the small filthy toilet of the cafe owned by a short plump Mexican was his source of water for the past year. Harry lived in a room above this Mexican cafe that smelt of Tortillas all the time. His room was empty except for the lamp place in a corner of the room. Nobody knows what Harry did for a living but he was never late in paying his rent. He did not have much money but he had never been short of money either. He always seemed to know where to go when his wallet went dry.
After washing up, Harry took off and disappeared into the bustling street that leads to his daughter’s childcare center.
Angel of Death Fuck off
My Grandpa is dying. I hope he gets better. Please don’t die so soon. Give everybody more time. Angel of Death, fuck off. Go get someone else.
Flooring
I have always taken a liking towards wooden flooring while the missus prefers concrete. Found 2 flooring that are quite pleasing. 1 wooden, 1 concrete.
Concrete
Wood
What do you think?
Home Ideas
Need some power?
Interesting manner to get electricity..
I would like this red and white theme for Scarlett’s room. Nice.
Growing Old
Heard about a Japanese tourist being kidnapped and killed in Indonesia recently and I felt a tinge of sadness. Only top of that, there was a tingle of fear. I used to be someone who wouldn’t care less and would jump at any opportunity to venture into the unknown and so called danger. However, upon hearing about this incident, I suddenly felt afraid to travel and go to places where it is known to be dangerous. I felt fear. That’s something rather unknown to the fearless me in the past. Have I grown too old to lose my balls? Or that the circumstance I am in doesn’t allow me to risk it. All these are questions that I find hard to answer.
I used to think that I’m a person without limits, now I feel that I’m someone who knows my limits (a.k.a I have my limits) but am still trying to push it. When can I be a person who knows his limits and does not wish to push it at all? Is that even a good thing at all, not to challenge yourself and push yourself? I don’t know. All I know is that I had nothing to lose. Now I have all the world to lose. That’s what’s holding me back. I’m starting to understand how it feels to be old and to be afraid.
WTF
I seriously wish to be more of a “I don’t give a fuck” person. Think I care too much and I get bothered too much. Maybe it’s the righteousness in me or maybe I’m just easily worried. Maybe one day, I can honestly say that I don’t give a fuck.
What the fuck
P.S. I apologise for the excessive and uncalled for vulgarities.
