Forays

Ever since I bought the digital camera I have been trying to get my creative juices going by trying (again that word) to take artful pictures. And I guess not much can be achieved with an automatic little Nikon. But I tried. Still objects are my favourite. The results are okay I suppose, for a camera meant for capturing everyday moments, and not artful ones. Well, to me at least they are okay, I must qualify. :) So things around the apartment have been my favourite targets. And Trengganu did provide an interesting venture - my friend's house has a lot of gorgeous objects. So here they are. Can't wait to experiment with those graphic softwares heh heh.

Lazy affair

It rejuvenated me. A short lazy affair, only a weekend thing, but my soul is mended. I feel a lot better than I have felt in a long while. A sweet one, invoking memories of my previous affairs - I almost always would have at least one a year. Yes, it's Trengganu time again. Lots of lazy times of eating, eating and eating with very good company. Lots of long lazy chats and laughs. This time armed with a digital camera, my latest toy. I have to admit I am a late adopter of technology, so I only very recently bought one. :)

Here are some pics. I hope you like them.

Silence

Silence, precious. Especially when you need it badly, after all the troubles and tragedies. I had a long bout of silence today. Which I relished. A day of doing nothing, staring into space, listening to Spyro Gyra. Hammie's passing still affected me, and his presence I still felt. His sandbox is still at the back balcony, waiting to be emptied and cleaned. I just couldn't bear to do it yet. His scratching pole I managed to hide in the room. Found his fur on my wool pants that I sent to the laundry this afternoon. His food, still there. And that catnip toy bought during this recent trip to Dubai, still in its wrap. Never managed to give it to him. Oh Hammie, you don't know how much I miss you. All I have now is silence. And this one, I don't quite treasure.

The cost of grief

I have been grieving over the loss of Hammie. And my mind was a muck - thinking about mother, work, and now Hammie. So I decided to go for retail therapy. The result:

1. Two lamps from Ikea
2. A dinner for four at Pho Hoa (well, I dragged my friend and his children along)
3. Two of each of detergent and softener (don't ask me why two)
4. A pot of petunias

Do I feel better? Not really.

Farewell Hammie

Hammie is gone. He died this morning. He died a very peaceful death, in his sleep. My sister found him in his sleeping position, where usually slept, body still soft. My cat. The cat that I loved so much. The cat that I raised from when he was barely a month old. R gave him to me. On Valentine's Day two years ago. With the hope that I can practice raising a child that he felt I should be adopting. It has always been a joke between us that if I could raise Hammie right, then I should not have a problem adopting and raising a human child. And he is now dead. So may be I shouldn't be raising a child. Perhaps he died of heart break. I left him with my parents for two months because of my travails. Travails that I hate but I had to do. Something that has become a joke to my boss - "oh, he doesn't want to travel because of his cat.. hah hah". See what it does now. I went back over the weekend to visit my mother, and of course to see Hammie. And he didn't even want to look at me. He avoided me. I was aghast, because he is such a friendly cat. I meant was... still have not come to terms with his death. His favourite thing to do - licking my hair everytime I come back from work. This time he wouldn't even look at me. Well, I guess either he knew he was going away, or perhaps he just hated me for leaving him.

Oh Hammie, this is supposed to be a tribute for you, but I just can't find the words. I stil can't believe that you are gone. I just left you yesterday evening. And now you have left me forever.

I miss you, so much.

Under the desert moon

Nothing like the vastness of the desert to make you feel close to your companion. Perhaps also it is the chill in the spring air. What more with me worrying about my mother in the hospital, and my not being able to immediately go back since all flights were fully booked. So we sat, bare feet in the soft sand, caressed in its warmth. And we talked. And talked for many hours. Untold stories for the last twenty years, unspoken words stuck in the throat all the while. Thoughts never discussed, feelings never revealed - they came out in torrents. Much like the sand sliding down the steep slope. Yes, it felt good. It felt warm. Not unlike being touched by the desert sand. And my heart went a flutter, losing a tiny bit of its coldness.