xii. 18/07/15I think the best part about today was our whole family gathered at the window to watch our neighbours build a snowman. mind you, they were grown adults, at least 18. one of them were rolling the snowman’s head on the ground, back and forth like a doughball. another one had a blinking red light on their head. the weirdest thing was it was huge. it was probably more than half my height (I’d say it stood over a meter tall). my family had so much fun narrating this building scene.
contrary to popular belief, there aren’t only seven days in a week. sometimes, there’s only one. holiday. they don’t feel like any other day – unlike Saturday, or sunday. it’s a stressless freedom that allows you to chill and float around, no longer tied down by worries and fears. they follow no pattern, have no set schedule, unable to be categorised into the seven days.
there’s probably a reason why the trees and your lungs have the same branched shape, or why your eyes seem to hold infinite darkness like a black hole. or why snow-capped mountains look like a network of veins. it’s almost like something out of a biology textbook, just with a few colour adjustments. perhaps it’s because both are pulsing with energy. the world is so alike in such astounding ways.