Particular Interest

I can see the abrasions, the cuts, the scratches; they jar the otherwise smooth and polished surface. They blend into the metal, as if it was designed in such a way, blurring the crisp and clear image. I twist my wrist around, my eyes shifting their focus towards the centrepiece of a new but worn amulet. The funny thing is though; I don’t even look at it for the time. Instead, I just admire its beauty, its history and its wear overtime. I make sure I keep the face pointed towards the light though, much like a sunflower following the movement of the sun through the day, turning and twisting to survive against its will. He made sure that it was solar powered before he gave it to me. He probably found my love for the natural world when I would wander away from the family on outings, when I was two, wobbling towards the nearest animal – I’d even chase after pigeons. That was the first year I met him; our first family trip to visit the relatives in China. I don’t like to say I choose f...

I can’t move. No, really, trust me… I’m frozen solid. I can still see the lights though – at least my eyes work. Hazy sparks shine through that glass layer of my eyes penetrating deep into my mind. It’s not clear though. My vision is blurred – I want to rub my eyes to clear them up but my arms cannot move. It really doesn’t help that my hearing is not any better. I can hear murmurs from everyone but nothing is crystal. It’s almost as if I’m underwater, holding my breath as I am pushed along the ocean floor by the uncontrollable currents. You can’t see clearly underwater, only blurred clumps of objects here and there, moving in rhythm to the waves. The sound is muffled too with a distinct low pitch to everyone’s voices. Similarly, it’s harder to move underwater – to be fair, it’s not exactly the same, up here in the open above the desolate emptiness of the sea, I can’t move at all. My hands and feet do not budge. I don’t even think my own body knows that these limbs and muscles sti...

The worst feeling in this world isn’t physical pain, nor is it the fear of death. I am certain of it that it is shame – shame in losing everything that you wanted, shame that you have to beg for charity to survive, shame that people walk past and look the other way, not even acknowledging your existence. It’s always troubled me: If a tree falls in a forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it still make a sound? There’s no other way though. Trust me, I’ve tried to get housing and income support. No can do. It doesn’t really work when you don’t have a house or a job to begin with. So this is what I have to resort to and I’m sure I’m not the only one doing so. None of these people are going to give me anything for free, I know that. Like a job, you need to do something to get something – its glorified trade after all. I used to be one of them, I understand. Surprising, huh? A bucket sits in front of me on the pavement, empty like it was hours ago. I sigh and kneel in f...