tunes of the unexpected

i have been amazed by the tunes of the unexpected played by a local radio station lately. few nights in a row, the tunes come like a long lost friend and rejuvenate my repository mind to recollect pieces of time that unfashionably spread across my inner universe and bring them all again to the surface...

after the rain

after the rain, the air feels clearer now. some people say raindrops in spring save a wonderful summer. and recently there has been unscheduled showers come to the lowlands randomly. hopefully this is a promise of bright summer. falling leaves scattered on the canal seem have been carried away by the down pourings last week. the bicycle path along northend garden gives no resistant voice to bike's wheel, provides the rider with a deafening silence under the shades of green. the crowd of bikers are not always in massive flow, sometimes there are few of them, but during the weekend there could be a group of youngsters or family biking in constant biking along the road. the bell are rung to ask for a passage permission. today the road is empty. there is only falling brownies leaves floating in the air, while blue sky above is covered with thick green of summer plants. how i cherish the atmosphere after the rain. it is just pure.

xomer apeture

a hazy afternoon in iona's backyard. the day was quite windy and it made trees pouring down leaves as if it was an early autumn already. it shouldnt yet to arrive, there is one season to celebrate for those leaves. on the way cycling to iona's backyard, i was passing a canal nearby the northend garden. my eyes were amazed by the reflection on the water, a clear vision of the upside wolrd in downside reverse. brown leaves littering the water ground and all stood still in dignity. the summer is resounding its coming, and the river calls the clouds for rains, and the trees hold the greens not too be shaked by gusty north winds. reflection of the upside world on the water, made an afternoon in iona's backyard silently overwhelmed. a xomer apeture for letting the envoy of coming season come to town.

feels like a crawling snail

it is not easy to keep myself intact these days. i try to have good music as the loyal company for my enduring time of thinking, but it just distracts my intention to some imagined world out there. i try to find a window seat in the train, change the room without changing the essence of scholarly contemplation. indeed, some people next to me add the noise to my surrounding, and it confuses me whether to feel disturbed or entertained. everything is basically here now, i just need to stay focus and the skill of a good tailor, for sewing these materials into a decent readable work. i feel like a crawling snail. fiuh...