Premature P.S. Colourless Butterfly is copyright! :) Just joking. Maybe.

I feel like writing a poem, but I haven't gotten down to it yet. Oh, psh. Procastinating me. And, by the way, Saranya says that SH thinks Amanda and I are mad, literally, thanks to that incident in Colchester Park. It supposed to be called 'Lor Chuan Park', but no one really bothers, so fruit off the formality. I wonder which fruitcake gave a playground with such nice surroundings such a horrible name - Lor Chuan Park. Back to the topic, either way.

I am not mad. I'm just really, really eccentric...and ironic. I'm just indifferent.

I've finished reading a book titled "Winter Rose". The title sounds rather cheesy, doesn't it? I thought so too, which brought some regret after I bought the book. But the story was beautifully written. The author, Patricia McKillip, has a gift with words; a gift that'll never be bestowed upon me.

And, some snowflakes fall in me, marking winter...Soon my heart will be coated in snow and the cold of the bone will freeze the snow...I will wait for spring.

I am Earth.

Earth.

Earth.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the pearl, if fortune blesses me, even if only for a while, and I take time to admire its beauty, though I can only watch it from afar. I cannot touch it; it belongs to no one but its maker. Is it the offspring of my imagination, or does the pearl glisten with iridescent glow when I am around...For weeks I have not met the pearl, yet. Is it, possibly, worn on a string with plenty other pearls around a slender beige neck adorned with snow white cuffs, forever - or temporary? Perhaps, soon, the pearl will grace me with its honorary presence.