These days of my life involve a jumbles of listening to the thirteenth century classical guitar by Julian Bream (God bless the City of Sydney library!) and putting a thinking hat on my head for every complex class I'm attending, while squinting my eyes to listen carefully to the rough quiet voices of my old teacher - a move both irrational (why I have to squint my eyes to listen better I don't know) and unattractive.
These days of my life witness me devising new conversation topics for my new friends (apparently how're you doing-good, yourself-great, thank you is no longer enough these days when you know you'll be meeting each other every day in the same class) and faithfully reading my textbook every night before bedtime while secretly wishing I could hold Wuthering Heights in my hand instead. So far it's been left to rot beside me on the bedside table. I feel guilty, but as most forbidden love are, I also feel justified abandoning it.
These days of my life, the sky's heart pours itself out every morning, making me yearns for the sun-kissed glow of the road, the leaves, the flowers, and the smiles of cheerful strangers. These days of my life, the blessings are countless, the opportunities are boundless, and good hearts are almost everywhere I lay my eyes on.
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