Mona Esper Tan.

backlitmemories: collaboration with Jump Jirakaweekul

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 10:59:47 +0800

backlitmemories:

collaboration with Jump Jirakaweekul

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Tue, 12 Mar 2013 10:39:13 +0800

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Thu, 07 Mar 2013 20:38:18 +0800

glass-ball00n: but it’s not supposed to be like this

Wed, 06 Mar 2013 22:37:39 +0800

glass-ball00n:

but it’s not supposed to be like this

Part Two.

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 22:27:03 +0800

March 4, 2013

She sleepily gazes at the clock on her bedside table. It’s 1pm and she silently wished she was a morning person. Unfortunately, ever since the first day she attended high school, her body decided to be nocturnal without asking her permission. And she submitted to it. It got a couple hours worse when she attended college.

She stares at her clock again. 1:04 pm. The she starts thinking about him again. She starts thinking about their Saturday. About how he said he missed her, about how that made her extremely happy. She stopped herself halfway and decided that she should not miss him now because 1) it’s just Monday and 2) it’s gonna be a long one. Besides, they meet during Saturdays and there are still gonna be more Saturdays for them. With some reluctance and a long sigh, she poured her coffee and started to work on her projects. It looks like she’s gonna have to skip her favorite part of the dreary Monday afternoons.

He constantly looks at his watch, counting the minutes. It’s 5 pm and he’s wondering where she could be. How odd for her to skip her Monday afternoon. He prepared himself and even tried to read a book. He brought the book with him, Anne Frank. He remembered seeing her smile for the first time while reading this book even though he was sure she read it a thousand times before, it looks yellow and weary. Unfortunately, it’s 5:04 and she’s nowhere to be found.

After his 3rd cup of coffee, he looks at his watch again and it’s 6:15 pm. He said to himself that it’s absurd of him to miss a stranger. Maybe it is absurd, maybe it’s not. He doesn’t care because he adores her and he adores how she makes him happy without meaning to. He wonders what she could be doing to miss he sacred Monday, it is the first time. He told himself not to worry because 1) it’s just one Monday and 2) there is still gonna be more Mondays to come. With a big reluctance and a deep sigh, he finished his last cup of coffee and started to walk out of the diner. Continuously wondering why she had to skip her Monday afternoon.

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Mon, 04 Mar 2013 17:40:37 +0800

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Thu, 21 Feb 2013 14:55:25 +0800

How can you fucking write so well, woman? Keep it up. (I) Adore reading your posts

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 02:06:32 +0800

I am surprised. Thank you. Not perfect and still learning. But I try. :) You (whoever you are) just made my night. ^^

Abligurition: The act of spending too much money on food.

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 12:48:09 +0800

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Sat, 16 Feb 2013 01:22:29 +0800

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Sun, 10 Feb 2013 22:57:45 +0800

a fear of forgetting

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 12:05:21 +0800

a fear of forgetting

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Wed, 06 Feb 2013 11:58:25 +0800

theamericankid: Caffeine and alcohol are drugs

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 11:52:59 +0800

theamericankid:

Caffeine and alcohol are drugs

aseaofquotes: Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 01:11:11 +0800

aseaofquotes:

Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Part One.

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 00:09:00 +0800

February 4, 2013

If she is to describe how it feels like to be alone in a fast food joint on a Monday afternoon, she would say it is peaceful. But it is the kind of peaceful that only a few others would enjoy. Sitting and reading Hemingway, not understanding a few words in the book because her vocabulary isn’t as flamboyant as the author’s. Wishing she could write as well as she could read. Sipping on her cola and thinking what she would do with her day tomorrow, and the many other tomorrows that could and would come. Looking back at her book and trying hard as she could to imagine the wonderful things that is happening to the reading. For she is sure that whatever it is, it is wonderful. After all, it is Hemingway. Then looking outside, wondering if her brain really works just as slow as the vehicles jammed in the traffic.

Her afternoon is senseless, but she likes it. Then she starts thinking about him. All 5’6” of him, masculine and careless. His big sleepy eyes, the lines that divide his chin and lower lip, the dimple on his right cheek that sometimes appear and sometimes don’t. His smirks, his smiles. The way that he loved her, but never wanted to own her. The way he wanted her to do the same, but accepting that she can’t. So he let her love him in the way that she wants. She thinks it’s admirable. But then again, everything for her is admirable.

If he is to describe how it feels to just look at her sitting alone in the corner of a local fast food every Monday afternoon, he would say it is rather sad. Not sad for her, she looks like she is at peace. But sad for him. Sad because he can only sit and admire from a distance. Wishing she would somehow look his way so that he could smile at her, but she never did. Since the first time he saw her on that second Monday of December he wondered if he could come up and ask her what she is reading, but he never did. He was never much of a reader to begin with. He returned the next Monday to find her sitting on the same corner, then on the next Monday then some more Mondays after that. Then he looked at her stare at the traffic, wondering if she is seeing something magical. For he sure is.

Since then his Mondays were never senseless, for him it was captivating. He looks at her, fair skinned and 5’3”. Her eyes were always pinned at the same places - her book, her food, her book, the traffic, and the book again. Her eyes were the most strange that you will ever see, sometimes they could be so wide with wonder and sometimes, they could the the most oriental. Her high cheek bones. Her full lips. The faint smiles that he would see when she is amused with whatever she is reading. The way she smells when he came in early one time and she passed beside him to go to her corner. He always wanted to come near her, to see her closer. The way he always wanted to admit to himself that he might be in love with a stranger. The way he wanted her to do the same, but accepting that she wont. So he admires her the only way he know how. For him, everything about her is admirable.

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Fri, 01 Feb 2013 20:57:43 +0800

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Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:27:30 +0800

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Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:27:22 +0800

lovequotesrus: EVERYTHING LOVE

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:23:48 +0800

lovequotesrus:

EVERYTHING LOVE