The sun shone intermittently into the panes of our bedroom's window, it looks more like a summer day then. Inside, I was laying on my back doing some cycling, it has been a long while since I last exercise at home. This is probably the first in about six months.
I was listening to the now-became-mundane song from my iPod. It was mio nemico. Somehow, peculiarly enough, I tried to dive into the song again. Maybe because I had to, since I haven't updated my songs list. Or maybe because I was just trying to relive the past.
Even so, when I looked up at the ceiling, the view was stunning. The sun rays gave life to the spinning fan, making it looked like a very big daisy. With the breezing wind, I felt like I was blanketed by it.
It was the first bright insight in ages; I could feel myself soaked in me again after so long. The fact that I had that perspicacity, that personification element in that tiny bedroom shocked me that it didn't tear my eyes. I was simply shocked that I still had it in me.
I guess then I don't easily vanished just because my life has changed.
I would love it so much to write more, to observe and be able to describe things more like I do, to see from my own eyes, to sing more, to cycle more, to exercise more. Because I become alive when I do.
And I miss Australia ever more. Ever more.
