Time and time again

by Chua Han Au

I awake on weekends inhaling absolutely purged air and a sweet tasting of the morning sun. Everything seems to have changed — days are quieter, people are more morose and the shade of green on trees are darker. Rain now falls softly.

I find myself sleeping differently, my head now turns to the ceiling. I don’t read as much as I do before, regrettably. My heart is increasingly hardened by the blinding contrasts I witness in my military stint and perhaps this is why I find myself tougher to write longer; everything is truncated, emotions are evaporated dry almost immediately and while there is still a mess in the heart, there is no time to grab a pen and write it down.

Everything is faster, more sombre and less emotional.