Moon Set

To stretch on budget and time, I have done enough night travelling to discover the existence and beauty of moon set.

Rounder, bigger, pale with yellow, sometimes even appear to be a bit more orange-y and apparent with details (of its crevices) as compare to its facade at midnight; the moon setting near the border of the earth shone out enchantingly like a big block of yellow cheese, hung lowly over the black, sometimes starry, night.

During the early night, occasionally even before the sun sets, you will discover it climbing up from the other side of the soil apposite the fire planet, glowing in its pale silvery shade, shying away from the bright blazing evening sun that stood out like a phoenix’s burning feather.

But once the sun crosses the border, drawing its last streak of light over to the other side of the sphere, the moon will shed its layer of satin pearl, often pallid with a hint of grey, and replace it with a lucid lustrous white coat. Tracing the same path its masculine half surfed through during morning, the moon will crawl over the globe and across the land, as though pursuing after an elder brother like a younger sister would in a game of tag, before maturing into a ginger-yellow as it is now.

Moon set, unlike sun set that usually burns menacingly and mercilessly at all the planets around it, wields a melancholy feel that entices you to stare mindlessly into its solitude existence that stood out in the pitch black.

My Ipod is playing “A love that will last” from Renee Olstead, one of my favourite tune of all times. How am I here? Why am I here? On this long winded journey and is taking me to no where, coming from places of so few memories left for. Fresh pieces of memories sweeping over the old, and I begin to embark on another journey before the new piece becomes old again, replaced by yet another fresh layer of land and people.

“I don’t desire a complicated past, I want a love that will last. Say that you love me, say I’m the one. Don’t kiss and hug me, and then try to run, I don’t do drama, my tears don’t fall fast, I want a love that will last.”

Complicated past? How true. This seems that I am running away from the past or seeking for a new one. But no, as much as I left my past behind me, they will forever remain in my heart, good or bad. It had been thrilling to have many short memories shared with numerous people whom I know for sure will never meet again in my current life. But I’m tired of short span of memories that will make no impact on my life. I want something more, and I’m moving forward~

“I don’t want just a memory, give me forever, don’t even think about saying goodbye, coz I~ just want one love to be enough, and remained in my heart till I die.”


What am I looking for? What do I seek in this journey? I have the answer, but reluctant to reveal it even to myself. It’s almost irony how this song is replicating my inner thoughts. Something permanent than mere diminutive existence, bitter sweet memories.

“I~ m not the kinda of girls to complicate the past, I want a love that will last~ I want a love that will last~”

This is getting cheesy.


The bus continue to advance on a dark lightless straight road, going over an occasional bump that will shake the whole board of passengers awake, who in no time, will tilt their heads and go back into snooze. Swaying left to right like a boat due to its massive body weight and height, unable to sustain balance for the upper and rear deck, the bus will gently (or aggressively) rock, like a boat, to woo me to sleep.

As the air-conditioning wind crept up the goose pimples on my arms and slowly wriggle its way “into” my heart, I wrapped the thin washed-up cotton towel about my shoulders in poor attempt to hide myself from the merciless cold blasting from the two holes above my head; which seems to be impossible to shut off the egress of the air no matter in what angle I direct the cylinders at.

I endeavour another attempt to hover myself into slumber, marvel in excitement to wake up at daybreak to find myself again in an unfamiliar, unexplored, brand new piece of land.