493 merci

He is sleeping, so I can stay alone for a while. The air-con room is so quiet and a bit dry cold.
Cover with my pink cardigan, read a few pages. It is May-2012. It’s getting hot.
We went to watched Dark Shadows last nite. The only actor in thriller not making me frightened. Johnny Depp. And love Helena. She ain’t getting old at all.
Finger cut with quite few drops of blood in Sat evening. Alone at home, while placing knife back next to chopping board. Felt the suffocated humility. Red drops ruin the sink and tiles.
Tons of dreams approached at night: passed away grandma who prepared breakfast for us and left. I missed her somewhere in my memories; The Chinese teacher I used to adore in primary school for a semester, we meet on the road, he was a bit aged; and the scence I spoken up as representative in front of whole high school students, yeah I used to do this. These partially happened before, or would rather say I’m getting old so start to miss the old days?
Waked up, headache. Back to reality.
Self-recongnization, urban value, still have directions.
Merci.