Five, or maybe six years ago, life was so basic I could paint who I am in few flicks. I go for casual clothings and stay until the sun sets while eating fishballs and talk about the day that was with people who, I thought, matters.
Now, the tabula rasa of this new found life has yet to find the right mix to actually make a mark. Late nights are now spent looking forward with a cynic state of mind. I could, for a day or two survive without human interaction.
Time has played its part. Now at the brink of this profanity and the cruelty of its reality, grabbing a cup of coffee while hitting a stick or two are the only things that questions the volatility of this world.