MIDNIGHT TALKS ROCK MY WHITE, BLUE, ORANGE, PINK PINK PINK PINK SOCKS!

yeaaaaahhh. class camp was awesomeawesomeawesome. even though sandfly bites are so totally notawesomenotawesomenotaweseom. ):

BUT.

anyway SIXX QQQQ is the bomb! midnight convo was so open so refreshing and refreshing, even though ehe obviously there'll be coughcough moments. (: but seriously, maybe it was how to darkness just obscured everything, or how the ubin air just made everything seemed slightly surreal or maybe just cause we lost too much bloood to the mosquitoes/sandflies/whatnot and felt light-headed, BUT WHATEVER THE REASON, we shared openly, truthfully, and that was what mattered (:

so many things happened in the course of this week that i really don't know what to write. my linguistic abilities have failed me, deserted me for the orange pongo stick heading with my passport for lands over the hills and far away. :D it's okay i haven't gone daft.

not much.

yea i hate to blog mundanely, so until i find the right ambience to blog in, i'll just post pretty poetry :D tt was composed under the influence of bharshas [or however you spell it] sagging in the rain

a dainty unfurling of leaflets,
precise and point-prefect in its petiteness.
it gently sways in time to the mild winds,
mindful of the caress upon its surface.
it's beautiful in a way that only it can be
brilliant in its special understated appeal.
it's tried growing a few flowers, pushing forth
tender buds of pigments
trying to illicit a greater response and maybe
just fit in a little more with the lilies and hibiscuses
but the flowers wilt in time and butterflies flutter off
it's content with the greenness of its finery
and shyly displays its frock
but alas!
the gentle breeze turns upon itself
and works up into a gale
leaf blades thrash wildly, violently
and lash out at the leaflets on display
a reflex action that can't be stopped
and the green petals close up intuitively, suddenly and certainly
it's no more than a bunch of nettles now
forlorn and almost abhorrent in its skimpy offerings
the petals close ever more tightly
and it sags to the ground
ugly and destitute and nothing more to like than its personality
but who would wait around for its finery to unfold again?

-anne