Young lad, today I am looking outside the glass window of a local hospital. Outside are white, puffy and lazy clouds. They’re staring at me, curious of why I am where I am instead of walking down the street of Tamarind. You see, I am idiotly smiling too to read such words of benevolence from you. I didn’t think that the skies under your feet are the same skies that left me awe-inspired. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. The azure sky overflows no longer with sheer emptiness; now it has become less of an empty white sheet because you got yourself installed in my skyline like a Christmas candy. I’m looking at you with great interest and anticipation. I wish someday where your friends found their home and group of acrobats, I can pay them a huge smile. A huge smile that I am idiotly propagating as we touch eyes. Thank you for being hopelessly charming in your own cloudy way. Knowing that you’re not hiding in mystery is like one layer of the skies being blissfully folded and I have move on one flying second from my place of exile. The clouds really look different today, brighter than ever.
Young lad, would these clouds that smudge my holy canvas be the brightest when you can sing for me? Young lad, I can idiotly hear your melody and it makes me idiotly smile for it.