I’ve not had the time really in a long while to really sit and really watch dusk fall, gradually like a beautiful stain creeping quietly into the night, like a stealthy, sexy lover enticing in its darkened cloak.
We are driving our faithful rush along the north south highway towards our resort in Sepang, and there are no street lamps to marr the colours of the sky. Suddenly the eye sees more colours than it has ever seen. A tinge of blue. A swipe of pink. A defiant stroke of orange. Purple hues. Indigo. Denim. A plethora of greys. Even a little hint of green. It’s breathtaking in its transformation.
We sit, companionably, side by side listening to Jacky Cheung sing about the different season of a girl that comes to his concerts. It’s heartbreaking. But poignant.
Nothing to do but battle the road ahead of us. Surely we will get there.