Monday morning. I woke up again at 5am - strongly, energetically :)
I did my usual morning routine but kept on thinking of her. She has been on my mind like an unseen presence, a phantom, a mirage. I don't really feel embarrassed about admitting this truth. Its just something I have, a sorrow that will not fly away. It sits on the balcony of my soul tapping its little beak against the window.
I wish that she would write to me. Talk to me. Ask me how I am. Be my friend again. I miss her and want to be with her. But I think she would most definitely rebuff me if I tried to approach her now; she has stopped corresponding with me ever since she cancelled the Niue trip unexpectedly.
I'm worried that if I do see her my passion will get the better of me and I'd probably say something wrong. How to be cool? :) But part of me doesn't care. I just want to see her again - to face her, even her indifference and to try and reawaken that small voice that said, "I like you and we have a connection".
I spent the weekend going to an open air markets in St Andrew's (pass Panton Hill), visiting a familiar old vintage bookshop in Camberwell, going for my platform diving training.... she would have loved going to that old bookshop. I could imagine her browsing through the bookshelves before eagerly grabbing a book to show me. I miss her gorgeous smile.
I miss her company. I can imagine her feeling mortified that I still think about her so fondly. It would be sweet if she thought my interest in her was endearing.
Go away. Go away. This feeling of lost like a malaise won't go away. But that's just me. I can't help it. I miss that girl and I can't hide it.
On other topics now... I bought several books from that old vintage bookstore in Camberwell. One of them was a 5th edition copy of Frank Athelstane Swettenham's classic - Malaya Sketches - published in 1895, over 100 years ago. Its about Malaya, the character of the Malays and observations about their culture and way of life. Its sensual, well written, and gives a romantic view of the old country.
This book has several well-written annotations in pencil by the original owner, dated 1930. I actually feel honored that I'm holding in my hands an attractive hand bound and cut book that was once loved over 80 years ago.
Reading old books like these is like time travel. It takes you to a bygone era. You hold the old text, you turn the parchment like pages, you really feel it.