remember when i scrubbed the floors outside of the house and refuse to go in till 2 am in the morning when we had that fight? the way we fight almost all the time, probably because we're so different, and more likely because to some extent we are just too similar; the emotional outbursts, the sleeping-can-get-rid-of-everything-ing, the writing of emoistic craps. but he is the one man i would always, always unconditionally love.

like the time when the whole family have a holiday in the highlands and we pass through some indigenous people's village. the pressure difference pressing onto our eardrums, the nausea of being in the car for too long, the chilled tropical atmosphere, the mountains and the trees, the sound of the waterfalls, the feeling of being with everyone you have ever needed in your life.

and we saw some of the villagers sitting around on the ground and rocks of what we would probably call the yard of their huts, about more then ten of them, looking like they are; shirtless, burnt skin, clouds of dust rising from the sand around them as the dogs occasionally walk pass them, the naked little children of theirs running around chasing and petting them. all these among the landscape of the green hills, as if their laughter and chatters are meant to echo across the valley to make the colours brighter.

he slowed down the car and said in his admiring tone "GOD, look at them. no cars, no what we call proper houses, not even clean shirts. but look at them laughing. i mean just look at them. so happy,". he's not really that kind that walks around with a smile on his face, but i never saw that big of his smile.

i miss you abah. i really do.

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