Complicatedly simple, or simply complicated?

Thursday, May 10, 2007

mood bloated


If everything that God created has got genders, then Melbourne must be a female. One who is in a perpetual state of PMS.

Yesterday night was absolutely freezing. I almost couldn't feel my fingers and toes and I came out of a warm shower with my teeth chattering so hard I thought my jaw was going to drop off. But this afternoon as I was strolling down Bridge Road alone while Rudy stayed at home to mug, the sun was glaring at me so strongly that I had to squint just to read the tram stop sign.

Lesson#1: Women normally cant make up their mind. That is true.

Anyway, today there was a house inspection for the upcoming auction so we had to leave the house in the afternoon. Ended up at Nando's for lunch.

Staying in Toorak is a pretty unnerving experience. Everything about this little neighbourhood screams posh and glamour, and while tall blondies and men in smart suits strut around in Manolo Blahnik and Ferragamo, I galumph around in crummy F21 jeans and Keds/havaianas. While they zoom past in shiny and sleek cars, I wait for trams at the side of the road and tip toe under the trees picking leaves. But I am a happy oddball, because there is one thing I enjoy about this place, and that is how beautifully lanscaped it is. Maybe its because of all the big and formidable looking houses. They are so castle-like that all the owners must have felt compelled to plonk a tree or two (or three, or four) to complete the whole fairy tale picture.

Most of the trees are deciduous, and all the streets are lined with them. So now that it is autumn, they fill the whole place with red and amber hues, and they are truly beautiful.

They are so fragile and brittle to the touch. At the slightest prod, they flutter down and join their fallen friends in a heap on the ground. The whole street is littered with brown, and when the wind blows, the leaves rise up in a whirl and float along in accompaniment. It was picture perfect. Just like how I used to read about it in story books when I was small.

So after lunch Rudy went back home while I spent about 4 hours doing my own walkathon in the attempt to burn off the Nando's chicken and the super big heap of chips I gobbled down for lunch. But really, there is only so much about the city that you can take in, after which every shop becomes the same thing. I am so easy to please. I like the journey back home the best.

Probably spurred by the guilt still lingering from lunch, or maybe because I missed walking 2 1/2 hr with Wayne just to get newspaper, I decided to walk home from South Yarra station. It was a half-hour walk, 7 tram stops down. And all along the walk back, the wonder of nature continually mesmerized me. While humming along to Big Yellow Taxi blasting on my iPod, I wandered around in awe, touching every different kind of leaf I could find, plucking some whose perfect symmetry or rich shades captured my attention. Hawthorn, elder, maple.

With a few leaves clutched in my hand, a grin hung on my face, I trudged home. And I felt like a little kid.

Oh my God... one whole post dedicated to LEAVES.


posted at 3:57 PM by Felice

About Me



is a free spirit | is straight | loves to drink | but is a cheap drunk | loves travelling too much | lives for good food | wants to ride on a hot air balloon | hates ignorance | hates mediocrity | hates meaningless conversations | loves walking in the rain |

Indonesia, Singapore





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