Friday, June 15, 2007

change; great expectations.

Back where I was, back where I am. It's the same murky green waters, the same spiky points, the same-old-same speech, the same chill of the wind. I sat on those terracotta bricks for the longest, longest time, but this time round, I didn't get to see Tom the pilot. Tom the suicidal. Tom the philosopher. Not even once.

I will forget from now on.