sometimes i see no point in writing anymore. the fact that i have to start working tomorrow horrifies me. today i am here sitting eating yesterday’s bought banana where i think i bumped into one of those ahmad deedat’s disciples, having no thought of the present yet where my mind blank where the desire to sleep overrides the desire to sleep, like everyone else you meet, on airport floors, on chairs in sleeping bags waiting for the next morning flight while you hide yourself in some obscure corner and start congregating about ayats and the present, three in malaysia, one in new zealand, one australia another korea, all out of place and worn out for the week. a syllable isn’t heard, except from the loudest of them all, who speaks of integrity honesty and cars colliding and money burned and belts churning. so in the next five hours i have to board two flights back home. the bus first, where i have to haul the disconnected contents of my life and dump it into the comfort of my home, and finally return to the womb.

the mind is no longer in the state of aggravation. either dumbed down atrophied distracted sealed off, i grieve.