the threads in her head

When one comes back to the homeland, away forever from a place that had been one's lodgings, maybe even a home, for one week-

It is a strange feeling, to come back to a place so familar, so full of comforts, where you belong, and feel almost numb. The exhilaration of the previous week, one so full of shocks and surprises, of new and interesting, of the strange and unfamilar, is suddenly washed again by the usual of familarity.

Time goes pass, and all that are left are memories, sweet fond memories. The charming place of Kadoorie Agricultural Research Centre, almost old-fashioned with its style, suddenly filled up with students from everywhere. That moment is gone.

That rough-textured paper made from newspaper and reeds rest gently on my thigh. One can bring it up to their nose, and breath in that strong smell of reeds, and remember, remember that wild visit to the Wetland Park, when all things were unfinished, with construction still in place. That wild crazy angles of their paths, that almost futuristic feel was almost numbing to the senses. Blue lights, music, crowds, machines, angles, rocks, life-sized exhibits.. the sights crash! around you. Loud, booming, wow.

The nights which we walked along once-strange now familiar paths. Up up, along the path that goes past the boy's dorm to a path leading up, with plants and flowers at the side. That first morning, we saw butterflies, delicate creatures of yellow and silverish-white, flitting around. The buzz of bees whisphered near our ears. That exotic blend of nature right beside you, and city lights to be seen far out in the night sky. To be in front of mangroves, and see that tall concrete buildings at the skyline. Boom boom BANG!

Hello, morning! Here's a first experience for you! The next time you go back to the place, you will never even capture back that new first feeling. You can never get back that feeling of amazement. You can never get back the same exact group of people, the same exact people in their same exact clothes at that same exact moment at that same exact second of their age.

Never.

Yet the memories last. The details of events might slip, but the sound of laugher is remembered. Look back, do you remember? That very first day where we screamed like headless chickens (ah yes, why did we use such an inelegant metaphor then?), due to that cold gushing that poured onto us and made our skins prickle, and then numb - all due to the fact that we actually did not flip on the switch for heaters outside. One day you might forget the names of the people in the other cubicles. The hilarity remains.

Laugher laugher, off-tune voices. More laugher, more glee, more chuckles of pure mirth. Explosive, loud, exuberant in joy. Toyota, Mercedes, Rolls-Royce. Anglo minus Chinese High School. Muah Chee.

All treasured memories, fond, sweet, comforting, joyful.

The future is so due to the past. The man is able to smile due to the memories of yesterdays. In idyllic hours, spin off the wild daydreams based on such precious memories.

Strong bonds formed. May we be like graphite – strong covalent bonds between carbon atoms, forming hexagonal rings in flat layers. To be firm in our hold, but yet flexible enough to move with the flow of time, to adapt, to continue on. Studying chemistry can be life-changing…

Missing is but a natural response to these very good days.

Speaking of which, let's have an RJ party soon.