Rendezvous
28 February 09 : 03.34 AM
I am home but I have hardly the mood to unpack.
Traveling feels odd this time round. I had imagined it would be perfect. I dreamed of walking alone those dirtbeat streets with music playing in my head, a soundtrack of mess to match the mess outside. I dreamed of long, boiling baths in hotel toilets because it always feels different. I dreamed of strange streets in strange coldness with foreign alphabets on signages. I dreamed of something that might have felt a little lyrical, a little overwhelming and all round foreign. But there was none of that. And I left the city a a little more than disappointed.